Wednesday, November 2, 2016
Dad and I pulled up to the DMV. We waited, registered, and paid for me to retake the test. Since Friday (the day on which I made my first attempt) I had read and highlighted the purple and gray sections in my Driver’s Manual, so I felt prepared, but I was scared about the possibility of failing. Dad was excited, and I didn’t want to let him down, again. “You’re at test station two.” The lady at the counter said before using words and arm motions to direct me.
The glass-walled room was empty. I placed my hands on the bar. “Lord, give me wisdom,” I whispered before pushing the door open.
I silently let out a deep breath. The room was full now. I had just correctly answered another question making the number I had gotten right go up to 23, while leaving the amount I had responded to incorrectly at four, and the number I skipped at two. I quickly answered the next question (because I was familiar with it) and then:
Congratulations, Tristen! You passed your exam!
I clicked “okay” and then, for a moment, stared incredulously at the screen which now read: “Touch here to start.” That was it? Did I really just pass?
I stepped out of the room and located Dad. He looked up from his phone and motioned me to give him a thumbs up or down but I just awkwardly grinned and walked toward him, unsure of how I felt. I told him I passed and he hugged me. Minutes later I was holding my beginner’s permit in my hand.
As we walked toward the van, Dad held out the keys to me. “I am not driving home,” I stated, and he laughed. Thanks for the offer but I did not trust myself with the task of getting the van home in one piece, let alone ourselves. Besides, I was still not very familiar with our new van.
So Dad drove. He stopped less than five minutes from home, in the Pelham Medical Center’s parking lot, and let me drive from there. He was FaceTiming Mom while I did so. I’m not sure which of the three of us was the most nervous. 😂 I put off using the gas pedal until Dad said so and apparently there were two cars behind me, but we made it home in one piece so I would say I did alright.
Haydn opened the garage door grinning from ear to ear, the first signs of a jealousy I was soon to become more familiar with. “Did you drive home?” He asked.
“No way,” I replied. Haydn stepped back through the door and returned with Ansa, one of his hands over her eyes. When she saw me in the driver’s seat she attempted to run back inside, but Haydn held her where she was.
Once in the house, I hadn’t even set down the items in my hands while Haydn had already located my Driver’s Manual, flipped through, and marked the sections he needs to study for his beginner’s permit test. 😂 His turn will come…in two years or so. 😂 😂