Driver's Test

So about a week and a half ago I took my driver’s test in Indiana (my dad lives there and they only have to wait six months for their full license so I jumped on that opportunity). I got the BMV, and waited in line for a few moments. Then when my dad and I got to the front of the line, we was told to wait until the driving instructor was ready, so we went and sat down. More waiting elapsed, and I was feeling under control. This wasn’t going to be too bad, I thought. Then I heard my name called from the desk where a man was waiting for me. When I got to the desk, he had me pull out my permit and take a sight test before prompting my dad and I to walk with him to the front door. There he told us some general things to do and watch out for (I’m not sure why he had to tell my dad), and then he and I were on our way to my car.

He first had me check my lights. When he got in my car, he asked me some questions to make sure I wasn’t a Class A felon, then we began. We drove and talked, and drove and talked some more. We drove through a school zone where I was instructed to go the posted speed limit for when the lights were flashing, so I did. I accumulated quite a line of cars behind my own, but oh well. Once we got back onto the road that led to the BMV, the driving instructor had me to just wait until we got back into the parking lot and back into a space because we couldn’t find a vehicle to parallel park behind. Once I had finished and keyed the motor, he began to talk with me about how I had done. “You did good, that was perfect,” etc. “But I can’t pass you if you run a red light. It’s what’s called a critical error.” I had to have been one of the most let down people in the world at that moment. It was like Charlie being the last kid in Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory but not getting the grand prize because he stole fizzy lifting drinks.

This is how it went down. He told me I pulled into a turning lane at a light. I had a green arrow so I pulled into the intersection. The light, he said, turned yellow while I was turning in the intersection, then red before I got the rear end of my car over the thick white line on the road I was turning into. “You want me to go on and schedule you for two weeks?” he asked.

“No, I’ll just wait till the next Saturday.” (I took it on the Thursday over fall break and didn’t want to miss school to go over to Evansville to take it) Together we walked back inside the BMV. He was telling me about having three teenage daughters and all of them having totaled their vehicles at least once. You know what, guy? I really don’t care right now. He told my dad about how I had done and why he had to fail me. My dad and I went to reschedule but found out we could only schedule appointments two weeks in advance, so we just left, figuring we would call that Saturday. When we were walking out, he told me, “I told you not stoppin’ would get yourself failed.” Thanks pappy.

Dakota