This morning, P/T D's sister (Let's call her Mary) had an appointment to take the test necessary to obtain her driver's license. In Massachusetts, every candidate for a driver's license has to have a sponsor ride along in the back seat for the test. The sponsor must be over 21 and have a license in good standing. Since Mary's mother had to work, I got tapped on the shoulder. It's been a loooooong time since I've had anything to do with driving tests, and I was actually looking forward to it.
The test was scheduled for 10:30 a.m., so I met Mary at 9. She drove all over town, and over the route I remembered for my own driving test (yes, they had cars back then). I had her practice backing up and three point turns, and we went over the questions from the Mass. Driving Regulations Manual. What? You didn't think we have regulations? Well, smart guy, we do. Just because they're so antiquated that they refer to conduct when passing a streetcar doesn't mean anything. (No lie. The question I missed when I got my license was "What is the minimum distance necessary when passing a streetcar?" "Beats the Hell outta me" is _not_ the correct answer. The correct answer is that a driver may travel no closer than 6 feet from the running boards of a streetcar in operation when passing.)
At about 9:30, Mary felt as if she was warmed up and ready, so we went to the testing site to spy and scope out the state troopers giving the tests. We were hoping that they were good guys and not too tough. Uh-oh, the route has changed from what it was a bazillion years ago when I took my driving test. Still, we watched to see what was going on. We quickly realized that one guy was not in a good mood, so we wanted to try and wrangle our way into getting the more easy going trooper.
Still, we had boatloads of time before the 10:30 appointment. Out of nowhere, the nice trooper turned to me and asked, "Hey you, when is your appointment?"
I laughed, told him the appointment was for Mary, not me, and that we still had about a half hour to wait. He said that they were running fast today, so let's go. Mary looked like she was hoping for a hole to open up in the pavement to swallow her up. But, having no choice, she got behind the wheel of the car. I climbed in the back seat and shut up.
More about the shutting up part: it is strictly forbidden for the sponsor to speak during the test, and if the sponsor coaches the driver in any way, the examiner will halt the test and fail the candidate. Way back when, the examiner turned to my father and said, "Mr. Nicklas, if you don't shut up, I'm stopping the test here and now." (Mr. Nicklas shut up and I passed)
The examiner ran my license and registration to make sure all was in order, took Mary's learner's permit, and started the test. She did perfectly, using her signal to pull away from the curb, taking the first corner like a pro, and not going over 25 mph. I took a breath, thinking this was going to be a slam dunk. Then the examiner had her take a turn onto a side street.
Which she did. At 25 mph. Really, really wide, nearly hitting the curb on the opposite side of the road. The examiner and I held on and hoped she would pull out of it. (I still stayed silent, but now I added prayers to my silence) He lectured her a bit for taking the corner too fast, but she seemed to recover. He had her pull down another side street, then make a three point turn. She made the turn, but forgot to use her signals. (argh) I realize no one uses signals during a three point turn, but you are supposed to do so during your driver's exam.
I was wincing inside, and Mary was now terrified. She's the kind of kid who, if she didn't pass the test the first time, wouldn't ever gather up the courage for a second shot. I checked my kleenex supply in my purse, absolutely sure I was going to need it.
The examiner then told Mary to parallel park behind a white car at the side of the road. I was worried about this, because I cannot parallel park to save my life. But she nailed it. The first time, perfectly, ending up about two inches from the curb.
"That parallel parking saved your ass, Mary." said the examiner. "I was going to fail you until I saw that. Then I realized the mistakes you made were just nerves."
We all started breathing again, Mary rounded the corner, and the examiner handed her the signed learner's permit. Beaming, Mary headed for the Registry of Motor Vehicles to trade the learner's permit for a real license. The lady behnd the counter was very sweet, taking Mary's picture several times until she had one that Mary liked, and offered her congratulations to Mary, and wished her the best.
All of a sudden Mary slumped. The tension had finally gotten ahold of her, and she asked me to drive. Good thing, too. There is a street fair going on in our town, and the traffic was horrendous. We drove to her mother's office, and then circled the parking lot for twenty minutes looking for a vacant spot. We finally found one in the handicapped area, and I pulled in.
Immediately, some old hag pulled up behind me, screaming for me to get out of the spot, "since you don't look handicapped."
Apparently, the pressure had gotten to me as well. I pulled the pass from the glove compartment, waved it at the other driver and got a whole attitude: "Is this freaking good enough for you? You got a problem with my handicapped pass? Find your own freakin' spot!"
Poor Mary looked at me with huge eyes - I'm not usually so touchy. Must be that Massachusetts driver lurking below the surface.
Now we have another driver on our crowded roads, and I couldn't be happier. I get to go through this again in two years with P/T D, and three years with DD. I'd best start practicing deep breathing right now.
Kathy N-V