Scared. Nervous. Worried.
Perhaps one of those words, or another that I can’t think of, is how I felt that day. It was March and I was a sexy teenager. After spending all winter learning how to drive, it was time to take the test.
I always feel cocky whenever I drive in harsh weather if only because I took my driver’s test in that kind of weather. Snow and ice doesn’t bother me that much. On the flip side, the whole time I was learning was during the winter and so I’m probably a more timid driver because I almost always drive as if there’s ice on the road.
Anyway, it’s March. Thursday.
You might have done some parking and other practices in an empty parking lot, right? Maybe it was very early or very late at night when there were no cars around.
That’s what I went through with my dad.
During my time behind the wheel, I realized that I hated driving. I knew going in it wasn’t Mario Kart. By the way, I will destroy in any Mario Kart. Let me know. I promise to make you cry. Anyway, I knew it was serious and that’s why, even to this day, I don’t really enjoy driving. I’m constantly scared of hitting somebody whether a car or a person.
The last thing I had to practice was parallel parking. Oh Lord. I got all other tricks of the trade down. I just couldn’t, for the love of God, get in between those shopping carts in one smooth motion.
Even that early Thursday morning, I was freaking out. “I can’t fail this test. I can’t”. Right. My mom tried to console me. “Oh, I didn’t pass my first time.” She said this a while ago. See, when I went to take my written test, I failed. And failed. And failed. I think it took me four or five times before I got it. My mom said she pulled it off easily.
We all have our strengths and weaknesses or some crappy morale lesson like that. I wasn’t hearing it.
