Life doesn’t always go according to plan. There are always those little misunderstandings, those little accidents, those little sip-ups that can’t be avoided. Despite this fact, I would like to believe that most things happen for a reason.
Two weeks ago, I took my G2 road test. I had planned the weekend out given that I was to pass my road test on Saturday. On Sunday, I would drive to my favourite bakery to pick up a Chocolate Coffee Cake, some croissants, and bread. I would drop the Chocolate and Almond Croissants and the Walnut Loaf off at home for my mom’s birthday, deliver the cake to my best friend Jenny as a belated birthday present, and subsequently give her a ride to work.
That was the plan, anyways.
I had fully, wholeheartedly expected to pass, so it’s not hard to imagine how humiliated I felt when the road test administrator asked me to pull over and cut my test short. “Practice more and then take the test again,” he advised. My faced burned with embarrassment.
I am not a bad driver. Compared to some of my friends who have their G2 licenses and have given me rides, I’d say that I can drive with the same amount of skill. I can accelerate, brake, change lanes, and park like the rest of them.
The only thing that differed is that I never took driving lessons from an instructor; I learned how to drive from my mom. In retrospect, her instruction was geared towards driving safely in real life and lacked the specific focus of passing a defunct driving test.
I didn’t pull up the handbreak every time I parked. I assumed that I wasn’t supposed to change lanes unless the administrator told me so because he said that I should only follow his instructions. I assumed that it was okay to turn right on a red light given that I fully stopped first. So I failed.
On Sunday morning, I woke up (relatively) early and set out to pick up the pastries from my favourite bakery. Without a license, I was subjected to the old-fashioned way of traveling: taking the bus. Failing the road test still stung, but the Chocolate Croissant and the Walnut Loaf definitely ameliorated my lack of a license.
Two days ago, I took the test againr, after three lessons with a driving instructor. It turned out that the road test administrator I had had, Number 305, was notorious for failing people. I went to a different test center with apparently nicer drive test administrators and passed without a problem.