#5

Driver’s Licensing Exam.

18 October 2012

09:30 Off on our expedition, hearts wet with hope and mouths dry with anticipation.

Our first stop is for petrol and rescue drops.  I have never taken rescue drops but since my fear-filled ordeal last time, I count them as my grace-gift from God (for only R69,00 a bottle at Clicks).

The drive down to Four Rivers is long; it’s at the southern tip of Gauteng. We were there just 2 weeks ago to book, on account of them promising quick deliverance to broken hearts.

11:30 When my dad and I arrive, I do some driving around this strange, small town and notice the road markings have faded into an almost indistinguishable state.

(It’s such a beautiful day, the sky is a brilliant, honest blue with picture-perfect pure white clouds.  The sky is so much bigger than the road, bigger than me.)

12:30 I meet my friend Thapi, who is testing at the same time as me. We talk about snow and tornadoes and the glory of thunder storms. We watch a family of cows wandering around the roads and hope they will not want to compete with us for road ownership.

13:05 Finally, a short, red-shirted man calls, “Hohls!”

I follow him, with my head held high as possible, into a small room where he tells me the rules I know by heart. “You will not roll, you will not touch a pole, you will not mount the curb, you will not cross any solid white lines. If you do any of these, it is an immediate fail. We will start with the yard test which you are to complete in 20minutes and we have 15 minutes for the road test. Any questions?”

“Yes, when you were a child did you want to grow up to be a driving tester?” I don’t ask this.

We go outside and I show him our car, little CFC (christened after its new Gauteng number plate.)

“I like these types of cars.”

I wonder what’s so special about golfs but I nod that I am just as in love.

I run seamlessly through the external check and interior checks.  He says in a bored voice for me to continue to the yard test. I feel fluid, like the car and I are one. Through all our trials, we have bonded. I feel like the car is Optimus Prime and I am his owner, whatever the other guys name is. Although, Optimus seems more important, so I think I’ll claim being him and  CFC can be the human. So…

Optimus Prime and CFC are doing well: we fly through every parking test with flying colours, as if we were birds: flying. My checks are precise, my steering is purposeful. 

The last test is the incline. The tester gives me the instructions to drive up and stop before the line, then to pull off without rolling. 

I drive up and stop. Pull up the handbrake. Slowly let out the clutch. Rev the accelerator. Let   the   handbrake   d   o   w   n….

I want to say it happened in slow motion- I wish that it had because I would have slammed the brakes before rolling. But no, it was over before I realised it was.

The tester was outraged.

 “Why are you rolling back? This is the last test in the yard before we go into the road!”

 He seems more upset than I am, his eyes are bulging and his logic confusing.
But we both seem to want the same thing...
The disappointed faces of my driving instructor and my parents flash in my mind’s eye, and the pain that brings is overwhelming.
So do the only thing I think of: I beg. 

“Please, please let me try again.”

“No, why did you roll back?”

“Please! Please!”

“No, this is the last test…”

We are like two lunatics chasing each other in circles.  Finally he calms down enough to tell me that trying again is against the law so: "drive back."

13:15 I fight back tears as we walk into the office. He hands me my mark sheet with the terrifying  “FAILED”. Note to thrifty self: I should start using these sheets as giftwrap.

13:20 I find my dad and water his shoulder for a bit while he comforts me gently.

13:25 Now for a long drive home.

A whining voice begins in my head, “You’re not really good at anything, not one thing…” I stare at it in the eyes until it shrinks away.

It must have been the rescue drops: as soon as we are on main road, I am already back to “tis the season to be jolly, falalalala….” But I’m still bitter enough to make a snide comment on my dad’s driving.

You would think the useless dog in my chest, Pride, would have died by now.

The stars are still holding their breath, they must be blue in the face, waiting for my wishes to come true.

And God, the Author and Perfecter of my faith, will give me my licence when I need it. For now, I live off lifts and kindness.