Gaining freedom of the road
When I finally got my driving license after 3 tries, I wished I hadn't.
The first time I went for my driving test in Ames, Iowa, it was with my friend S who had taught me how to drive. The road out of the motor vehicle office was narrow. I took off confidently down the middle. "Go back", said the angular and stern test taker after just a hundred yards or so, "this is a two way street and you are driving down the middle of it." In my defence, there were no markings on that road. Anyhow, that must be the fastest anyone has ever failed a driving test.
The story was that there were two testers in that office, the mean one and the nice one. Everyone sympathized with my misfortune at having gotten the mean guy on my first outing at the DMV. It was the luck of the draw, there was nothing you could do about it. One person had tried to outsmart lady luck and had gone to the neighboring city of Nevada for his test. And who should be his tester that day, but the very same mean guy from the Ames office. It turned out that, between him and his partner, they covered several cities in the area.
The second time, I almost passed. When the points were totted up, I fell just 2 short. It was the mean guy again, so he stuck to his guns - the total was the total, however close it might be to the almost-within-reach desired pass to freewheeling down the street - and failed me. Another friend's dad had gone there on the same day for his driving test (he already had an international license and needed to take the test for the US one). He passed and had a field day teasing me about my failure.
The third time, jackpot! I got the plump, jovial nice guy. There was no way I would have passed otherwise, the mean guy had it in for me. I went home overjoyed.
Except..
The very next day, I went in the wrong direction on a one way street (luckily it was a deserted small town street in the middle of the afternoon). Within the first week, I went through a 4-way stop sign without stopping. Technically, I did stop...for 30 seconds. Then, virtuously secure in the knowledge that I had obeyed the sign, I kept going, heedless of who had stopped first and had the right of way. An understandably furious person (a big white guy in a pickup truck) followed me all the way to the mall, waited until I got out of the car and gave me a well deserved yelling.
That was the moment I fervently wished I had drawn mean guy the third time as well.
So many people quietly do their jobs, unheralded and unsung. The number of lives saved by mean guy in Iowa will never be written on his tombstone. He will never be on the news or have a statue erected in his memory. He is a hero nonetheless. Thank you mean guy! (I'm sorry, I forgot your name.)
The first time I went for my driving test in Ames, Iowa, it was with my friend S who had taught me how to drive. The road out of the motor vehicle office was narrow. I took off confidently down the middle. "Go back", said the angular and stern test taker after just a hundred yards or so, "this is a two way street and you are driving down the middle of it." In my defence, there were no markings on that road. Anyhow, that must be the fastest anyone has ever failed a driving test.
The story was that there were two testers in that office, the mean one and the nice one. Everyone sympathized with my misfortune at having gotten the mean guy on my first outing at the DMV. It was the luck of the draw, there was nothing you could do about it. One person had tried to outsmart lady luck and had gone to the neighboring city of Nevada for his test. And who should be his tester that day, but the very same mean guy from the Ames office. It turned out that, between him and his partner, they covered several cities in the area.
The second time, I almost passed. When the points were totted up, I fell just 2 short. It was the mean guy again, so he stuck to his guns - the total was the total, however close it might be to the almost-within-reach desired pass to freewheeling down the street - and failed me. Another friend's dad had gone there on the same day for his driving test (he already had an international license and needed to take the test for the US one). He passed and had a field day teasing me about my failure.
The third time, jackpot! I got the plump, jovial nice guy. There was no way I would have passed otherwise, the mean guy had it in for me. I went home overjoyed.
Except..
The very next day, I went in the wrong direction on a one way street (luckily it was a deserted small town street in the middle of the afternoon). Within the first week, I went through a 4-way stop sign without stopping. Technically, I did stop...for 30 seconds. Then, virtuously secure in the knowledge that I had obeyed the sign, I kept going, heedless of who had stopped first and had the right of way. An understandably furious person (a big white guy in a pickup truck) followed me all the way to the mall, waited until I got out of the car and gave me a well deserved yelling.
That was the moment I fervently wished I had drawn mean guy the third time as well.
So many people quietly do their jobs, unheralded and unsung. The number of lives saved by mean guy in Iowa will never be written on his tombstone. He will never be on the news or have a statue erected in his memory. He is a hero nonetheless. Thank you mean guy! (I'm sorry, I forgot your name.)
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