Road Test(Courtland Mead) "Why did today have to be so damn warm?" I thought as I pulled on my shorts. I shoved a couple of bills and my driver's permit into my pockets. "Or is it just me?"

As I galloped down the stairs, I re-rehearsed everything I WASN'T going to do wrong for the billionth time. I didn't think I would be able to keep my breakfast down. Mom kissed me good-bye and gave me a knowing look as I walked out the door with my dad.

I won't flunk my road test a second time, I thought. Just remember to turn into the nearest lane; the parking brake; wheel positions for parking on a hill.... The list went on and on. I imagined feeling feverish: maybe I could get out of it for a week or so longer. I started my car and pulled it out of the garage. Dad hopped in.

"Let's try some parallel parking before we leave." My worst area.

I was devastated when I failed my first road test by only two points. I knew how to drive and drive safely, but that was all out the window as I tested. I slapped myself for weeks for forgetting the parking brake.

And everything seemed to hinge on getting a license: I had to get one to drive to work, to go camping this summer, and to go on a graduation trip to ritzy Bayfield. All the other kids my age had their licenses already, too. My friend Mel tried to encourage me. "I knew someone who flunked four times!" It didn't seem to help. Not only was I missing out on the freedom of driving alone, but there was something else. Something that couldn't be put into words. It was part of the initiation into the adult world: you HAD to drive or you were still a kid. Well, I wasn't going to be a kid, I thought, as my dad was talking about using my mirrors in parallel parking. Just relax.

We got to the DMV and filled out the forms. Then we waited. I had to sit on my hands, I was so nervous. Dad was trying to calm me down by telling me about the newest car he'd seen when i heard my name and jumped. I stood and turned. My "tester" was a tall, fairly well-built man in his late 50's. His red baseball cap had the word "Marines" on it. 'Great,' I thought, as I walked with him to the door. 'An ex-Marine'.

Mr. Ex either disliked teenagers or his job, or maybe he was just clinging on to his military past because he was like a drill sergeant. He quickly but thoroughly checked my car for well functioning lights, then climbed into the passenger seat. "You need a new muffler," he said, very gruff and businesslike, jotting down a few things on his clipboard.

I felt my face redden. "I know," I replied apologetically. He proceeded to buckle in as he rambled off the list of things I was supposed to do, which basically boiled down to listening to his instructions. He sounded like the generals giving orders in the movies: brief, commanding, expecting total compliance.

"If I say stop, I want you to STOP."
"Yes, sir."
"Questions?"
"No, sir."
"Pull out."

I double checked my mirrors and blind spots and backed out. Mr. Ex sighed impatiently. "Turn right at the stop sign." I pulled up, stopped fully, blinker on, checked traffic, then turned into the nearest lane. I
remembered! I began to relax when Mr. Ex pulled up his clipboard and wrote on it.

"I was not pleased with that stop."
"Sir?"
"Next time you stop BEFORE the sign."

"So my nose stuck out a little, big whoop!", I thought. But I just replied with a respectful, "Yes, sir." My heart sank. If this is how it was going to be, I was doomed. As I drove I relaxed more and Mr. Ex softened his tone a bit. Everything went smoothly until he said, "Pull up alongside this car and parallel park." Immediately my breath quickened and my palms began to sweat. I pulled up and licked my lips. Use your mirrors, I thought as I checked for oncoming traffic. I pulled back and into my space in a singular, fluid motion, but one look into my right mirror told me I was too far from the curb. It was the end of my hopes for a license.

Mr. Ex opened his door for me to see. "A little far," he said as he closed it again and marked on his board. "But parallel parking takes practice."

WHAT?!? Could I get a pass out of him after all? I tried to sound as innocent and likable as possible. "What could I have done to get closer, sir?" He started to deliver some advice as I drove away, and finally back to the DMV.

Mr. Ex took me into a cubicle with my dad where he became businesslike once again. "I'm going to give you your license...."
"YES!"
"Not so fast!"

I put on a serious face, again on edge.

"I still didn't like that stop. I can't tell you how many times I've had to walk around the front end of someone's car." I fought to keep back my smile. He pointed his pen in my face. "Stop BEHIND the sign."
"Yes, sir," I nearly saluted. Mr. Ex almost said "Dismissed" but caught himself. "All right."

I had my picture taken, glowing as I sat watching all the other nervous, sweaty children wait their turn to test. As I walked out, dad said with a smirk, "YOU drive home."

I had come out of my initiation.

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