The day I failed my drivers… for the THIRD time

So there I was, minding my own business in my car and reading my newest and bestest book, Spud*, outside the licensing department of Ixopo, when an overgrown bear of a man comes screaming up the hill and into the testing grounds, looking like his mother just pegged off and joined Jesus.

I curiously peered over my book to get a better glimpse of this man, when all of a sardine I noticed what he was wearing – a bloody Department of Transport uniform! I had just laid eyes on my Examiner. And so my nerves started.

The drive up was not as bad as last time, not nearly as much mist. I’m still convinced it’s caused by all the rural dwellers smoking too much weed through Ancient African pipes in between blowing on their odd didgeridoo “musical instruments”. I overslept by an hour and only realized it when my mom called to see if I had arrived at Sam’s safely (this was at 7.15 AM), which meant I flew out of bed, soaped myself in speed of sound timing in the shower, left a list of things Monica the maid needed to do for me, fed the barbarians (my dogs) and screamed down my wayward driveway and out the gate.

I got to Sam just before 8’o clock, record timing – if I don’t say so myself – and she barely had the chance to close the car door before I sped off again. I had forty five minutes to get to a place one hour and a half away. I made it just in time to meet Larry, my instructor. With hair missing on top of her head, and drool running down her chin, I was greeted with a toothless grimace I’m sure was an attempted smile and suddenly I second-guessed my choice of who I wanted to share the tiny confinements of a car with.

Just after lunch time, having made up my mind on the Examiner being strangely affectionate in a scary manner (He told me when I walked into his office, with a leer in his eyes, that I looked like and reminded him just of his daughter) I then began the test. The first five minutes went brilliantly, and he commended my ability of clutch control and “liked the way I mastered the wheel steerage” until I had to do bloody parallel parking.

My first attempt went well, and when he asked me to do it again from the other side. Some how, I blame my sore neck not being able to twist around to the blind spot, I missed the pole that was my land mark, and reversed too far back so my wheel touched the bloody pavement. TOUCHED the bloody pavement! Can you believe it?! My god I was so angry, I could have given myself a kick up the ass.

Once again back in Examiners office, listening to the similarities of me to his daughter he reassured me that even she failed 5 times. My response to that was not so delectable, judging by his dropped lip when I mentioned that maybe he was a shit father. I mean really, who does that? My dad would have SO pulled strings!

Anyway, I’m doing the test again soon. I am not telling you when because if I fail again, I plan to buy my license through a dodgy little dude one of my brothers hangs out with.

* Courtesy of Glugster, who purchased it for me as a surprise gift, as he’d seen me whining on Wiggly’s blog about being the last person in Africa that hadn’t read the book. Thank you again, my buddy, I love the gift!

As a complete aside, my facebook albums have people commenting that I look just like my mother. I think her nose is way too big, but there may be something in the features… we always tell her she was adopted before she realised she belonged in Italy. She’s way too motherly and clucky and force-feeding, if you ask me.