Milking It One More Time

How many times can I use my get-a-DL experiences in my blog? One more time, please. So I took and passed the driving test. Now I have a license to drive. That's the short story.

The longer story:

When we started off, my examiner, a very gentle man with a slight Caribbean accent, asked why I was nervous. WHY WAS I NERVOUS? I wanted to PASS. I did not want to come back to the Department of Safety at 7:30 in the morning and wait in line for over 40 minutes to get a number so I could wait in my car for another 20 minutes for an examiner to greet us. Of course, my husband had to drive me, so we were both waiting.

I drove around the area, with my examiner in the passenger seat. He told me to turn, to stop, to parallel park. I turned, I stopped, I parallel parked. I was judged a very good driver who does not follow directions very well. Accurate enough. I turned the wrong direction twice, and slammed on the brakes for a fast stop, when all he wanted was a stop. But it said on the form that they wanted a quick stop. And the manual said I wasn't supposed to cross a double yellow line to make a turn.

I am pleased to say that my score was 90 out of 100. I am surprised at how pleased I am. All that school training, I suppose. The last scored test I took was for getting a NYC teaching license. I remember thinking: this is the LAST TEST. Guess not.

But this is the last entry on this topic. I promise.

Getting There

I failed to get a Texas Drivers License on my first visit to the Department of Safety. No social security card; no license.

Well, my social security card didn't arrive til after my birthday, so my CA license expired, meaning the state of Texas was now requiring me to take a vision, written and actual behind-the-wheel driving test.

It took a while to work up my courage for these, but last week, SS card and new glasses in hand, I went back to the Licensing office. This time, I went north, where the office looked more like a rehabbed Jiffy Lube center than a Quonset hut. I thought they might be a little nicer in the Northern office. And I just didn't want to face that uniformed officer again; most of all, not in the passenger seat during my driving test.

The guy at the reception desk was full of good humor; particularly amusing to him was my predicament. I filled out the forms he gave me and then sat waiting for my number to be called. Then I was passed on to the woman who administered my vision test and collected my 24 dollars. She then directed me back to the written test area.

The written test clerk set me up at a computer with a touch screen. I could touch the answer, lock it in and see if I got it right. It was just like a computer game, really. The first two questions kind of threw me: the speed limit for an 18 -wheeler at night on main highways, for one. Turns out I was taking the test to be a truck-driving gal. Fortunately, there were do-overs.

So I passed the written test and the clerk said I could come back for the driving test. Come back??? I had worked up all this courage for steps 1, 2 and 3. But no, to get the driving test, you have to line up at 7:30 for the doors to open at 8, to get an appointment. No one along the line had mentioned anything about this.

The driving test looms. Maybe there will be a blog entry in it.

Goldberg Instantiated

Speaking of Christmas (yes I was), X made a Rube Goldberg machine for her dad for Christmas. It was a performance piece, not a permanent installation. Here's how it went:
A train went off a track into a box. The weight of the box pulled the switch on a light, which heated up a solar panel. The solar panel was connected to a fan, which began to blow a small car with a big sail. When the car reached its destination, it knocked over a domino, leading to a long chain reaction of dominoes. The last domino triggered a see saw which dumped a wooden ball into a bowl of water.

The thing needed a little help to work all the way through. And X was disappointed that the contraption didn't do anything, like scramble an egg or unfold a napkin. (My jobs were keeping expectations realistic and driving to Hobby Lobby for more supplies.) But after all, Goldberg just drew his inventions as cartoons. So I think a working model that drops a ball into water is just fine. Just fine, indeed.