Story last updated at
Driving
teen's rite of passage
I'm currently
a real threat to society as a teenager behind the wheel.
I've had a
beginner's permit for about a year, but that only allowed me to drive "if
a licensed driver who is at least 21 years old and has at least one year of
driving experience" accompanied me in the front seat. And that's no fun.
I had to hold
a beginner's permit for 180 days before I was eligible to take the conditional
license test. To prepare for the test, I practiced driving, working to gain my
independence on the road. I needed 40 hours of driving time to be eligible for
the license, and I put in my time every chance I got.
My parents
were there to support me each step of the way with positive reinforcements such
as "Brakes, son, brakes," "You don't get bonus points for
hitting the poodle" and "That's how people get killed." It was
always reassuring to have Mom or Dad riding shotgun.
I also needed
formal instruction, but I decided to forgo the intellectual rigors of driver's
ed at my high school and take a course over the summer from a driving school.
This started
with an eight-hour classroom experience. The class covered all the material I
would have learned over an entire semester at school. To keep us awake, the
instructor showed music videos in which underpaid teenage actors from the
ancient 1980s took on the tough topics of merging with trucks, using your turn
signal, etc., through some thoroughly amusing raps and country songs.
We also put
on the "drunk goggles" and tried to walk a straight line and pick up
pennies. This was supposed to show us the effects of alcohol on motor skills,
but it mostly served as a sort of recess from the monotonous class.
Then I had to
get in six hours of driving practice with an instructor. My instructor was very
friendly and far more relaxed than my parents, possibly because he had his own
passenger-side brake pedal. We went over everything that would be on the test,
including three-point turns, driving in reverse and parallel parking.
Unlike most
people, I was pretty comfortable with the dreaded parallel parking section of
the test until I went out to the Ladson Department of Motor Vehicles to
practice and realized the space there wasn't as deep as the ones I'd parked in
before.
I eventually
got the hang of it, but while I was practicing, my '91 Buick Century, the
epitome of a "granny car," died.
It took
repeated jumps, a visit to Advance Auto Parts and an alternator that cost
$84.78 before I was good to go.
The day of
the fateful test, I headed down to the DMV in the Buick, with its chipping gray
paint, fuzzy pink dice from my parents and fuzzy pink steering-wheel cover from
my girlfriend. (I'm secure in my masculinity.)
A girl
standing in line with me said she already had taken the test several times. As
far as test administrators, she told me to hope I didn't get "the Mean
One."
I got
"the Mean One," and I passed anyway. For my conditional license
picture, I decided to go for a kind of casual smirk, but the camera caught me
at the wrong moment, so the picture came out all weird and serious.
Now, with
that magical sheet of plastic in my pocket, I can "drive alone during
daylight hours from 6 a.m. until 6 p.m. (or 8 p.m. during daylight-saving
time)."Mostly, I drive back and forth between home and school with my
younger brother and my friend down the street.
The
Summerville High School parking lot can get kind of scary at times. Everybody
thinks they're a stunt double for "2 Fast 2 Furious" (even if they're
driving a Kia).
Of course, I
keep it safe because I'm an excellent driver. Plus, my parents would skin me
alive if I did anything stupid in my car.
All things
considered, though, my parents have been very cooperative as far as driving
goes. They let me get my license as soon as I was old enough, and they've
placed a lot of trust in me. Some of my friends' parents won't let their sons
and daughters touch a shoe to the gas pedal until they're at least 37.
And now,
after countless hours of mowing grass and writing articles (yes, they pay me
for this), I've finally saved up the money to pay off my car. She's all mine
now, and I pray that she carries me far down the road to adulthood.