Part 1: Written Test

With vacation comes the opportunity to dig through last semester's notes and cull some worthy funny stories that were passed over earlier for publication now. The unfortunate and unavoidable consequence of this post facto research is, of course, that the episodes are a tad dated. The piece to follow was started in early February, but then put aside for some terribly important reason that I have now forgotten. Anyway, the driver's test is a timeless coming of age adventure and I'd be remiss if I didn't share my experiences with the Faithful CN Few.

This series of posts is dedicated to my friend who just passed the exam.

Driving. At 16 it's a rite of passage, an entrance from younger boyhood to older boyhood. It's the freedom to take your friends around town, risk your life and burn a few Jacksons on gas and a few Benjamins on insurance. It's sixty miles an hour at night on a deserted road with your lights off. It's a couple of dents, an obscene gesture and a snazzy bumper sticker. It's America by way of Japan.

Only in my family, the passage doesn't happen at 16. Because of insurance costs and a maternal distrust of anything with four wheels, my brothers and I had to wait until after our 18^th birthday to pursue our non-pedestrian dreams. And when I did get the green light to drive, I discovered the process is not as simple as Grand Theft Auto implied.

A couple of weeks after I attained legal adulthood (when insurance costs take their sharp decline), I scheduled an appointment at a local government office whose name in the phone book was as ominous as it was wrong: Death May 'Vollow (DMV). I was informed during a fifteen minute phone conversation with a computer that I would have to pass two tests: A written and physical driving exam, both of which would require my absolute dedication, preparation and resolve.

I'd heard the test was based on a monstrously difficult collection of arcane data that had as much to do with actually driving as putting together a car from scratch. One of the main characters in Adventures In Odyssey – a radio program I used to be addicted to, but have now been clean of for over a week – failed the test in dramatic fashion and I have a couple of friends who failed the test, one of whom failed it twice. These tales of woe and embarrassment were enough to point me to the books and within a couple of hours I figured I knew everything there was to know about the American transit system.

I wondered, as I was studying, what the importance of Eisenhower's establishing a national highway or the history of Oleander hedges was. Those of you who have taken the test probably think I'm a blooming idiot (or maybe another kind of idiot), but the actual material that was going to be on the test was never told me beforehand and the 1940s era driving manual I found at the public library gave me few pointers.

My confusion notwithstanding, the test turned out to be a piece of chocolate mousse. Had I been hungry I would have eaten the test for lunch. I made the test my farm animal. I bench pressed the test. I mean, seriously; I've had harder medical examinations. Here are a couple sample questions...

1) A giant squid is consuming an office complex by the interstate on which you are driving. What should you do?

a) Pull out an automatic weapon and save hundreds of lives by wasting the squid.

b) Obey all applicable traffic laws and phone the appropriate authorities when it is safe.

c) Disobey all applicable traffic laws and do not phone the police.

2) A black Ford GT wants to race. What should you so?

a) Remove a knuckle duster from your glove compartment, exit your car and beat the tar out of the GT driver.

b) Obey all applicable traffic laws and phone the appropriate authorities when it is safe.

c) Gun your engine to show the GT you mean business and then win the race.

3) Four cars arrive at an intersection at the same time: You, a Ferrari, a Toyoto Tundra and a firetruck. Who gets to leave first?

a) The Ferrari, because the most valuable car has the Right Of Way.

b) The firetruck.

c) Order of departure can be determined via hand motions and honks at the intersection.

Actually the second question was the only one I got wrong. I knew – everyone knows – that knuckle dusters are street illegal in California and I am not foolish enough to answer that, but a man has got to protect his turf and no GT is going to squish my pride. When I debated the merits of my response to the DMV receptionist she smiled, showing lipstick stained teeth and shook her head. I got the feeling appeals were as common as they were unappreciated.

The point is that I studied for a couple of grueling weeks and passed the thing without breaking a sweat. If you're looking to pass, my advice is to just go in raw. Studying just distracts from the obvious nature of the questions. You don't need to prepare much to succeed at a test designed to be passable by illegal immigrants who don't even speak the language.

The first part of my driving adventure was complete, but celebration was unwarranted; the worst was yet to come.