Because my work isn't busy enough, because spending time on 9 conference calls a day while trying desperately to keep the email demons at bay isn't quite enough to fill a day, I have to add another item to my "to suffer list".

One I don't really want.

At all.

It took Angus' reminders to let me know that something needed to be done. Gentle reminders, but reminders which would have me chewing the interior walls of the car each time he said it. It's not that I was angry with him for saying things, it's that I kept trying to push it out of my head, to pretend it wasn't there. I was quite happy with my head stuck in the sand, thank you very much, even if my ears were full of the stuff. My dread of the activity was so great that I had a complete and total mental block, and each time I thought about it my brain would immediately switch gears and all I could think of was Pebbles and Bam-Bam singing "Let the Sun Shine In".

I have to take driving lessons to take the test to get a new license.

Mommy told me something, a little kid should know

Oh god, there it goes.

In Europe, for some unknown reason, an American driving license is good for one year and one year only. I knew this in Sweden but I drove anyway. I drove not only because I am one stubborn cow, but also because in Sweden the pass rate of the driving test was catastrophic. It was such gloom and doom that as I hurtled my way about the Swedish motorways I would laugh and think: NO fucking way am I taking a driving test. For-get-about-it.

After all, I did all that when I was 16 and living in Arlington, Texas. I have already been exposed to nervous driving instructors with their chicken brake and their complete and absolute lack of joy for life. I have already seen the gory videos and spent time scratching my name on the driving school desks. I paid my teenage dues, there's no way in hell that I was going to go through that again.

But it turns out I am wrong.

In order to pass this damn thing, I realized that I am going to have to have a few lessons in order to un-learn the lazy and comfortable driving habits that I have gained in my 15+ years of driving. I am going to have to go in and teach myself that driving with my knees while trying to blow my nose is no longer acceptable. That playing airplane in the wind with one hand while loosely steering with the other is not ok.

This, since insurance won't cover me here if it's more than one year since I moved here and I still haven't gotten a UK license.

So with a gun to my head (only they very sensibly don't allow guns in England, thank God) and a deep and angry sigh, I filled in all the paperwork. I pay an enormous fee and get a plastic ID card back in the mail with a huge angry red letter "L" on the top. The "L" is for "learner". Apparently we're supposed to have big red "L"s on the cars as well, but I will burn down whole rainforests before I will allow that to happen.

So with a very heavy heart, I called a driving school nearby and signed up.

It's all about the devil, and I learned to hate him so.

And I had my first lesson. I had to meet him in the parking lot of the local doctor's office, so I drove there, feeling full of molten recalcitrance. I waited there, wondering if I was in the wrong place, when suddenly a red beat-up piece of shit Peugeot pulls into the lot. It's so ugly it's unbelievable. It's so repugnant I can't understand how it's even allowed on the road, why it is the road hasn't just swallowed it up to save England from the embarrassment of such an eyesore. And it's obviously a diesel as it's rumbling so much I feel that we are registering on the Richter Scale.

And there, on the top of the car, is the world's largest red fuck-off "L" sign, pointing it's way to the heavens and letting everyone know that a learner driver is in the car.

She said he causes trouble when you let him in your room, he'll never ever leave you if your heart is filled with gloom.

I. Hate. My. Life. I walk to the car and get in, remarking on the fugly interior-ropy cushions laying on all the seats, a sun-bleached box of kleenex on the rear seat and a cassette deck that looks like it remembers with fondness the inkiness of the 80's. Actually, it looks like it really misses its former occupant, the 8 Track player.

Then the driving instructor unfolds himself from the seat of the car. From a height perspective, he's a pretty reliable stand-in for Herman Munster and he's wearing those sunglasses that shade themselves based on various degrees of the sun's harmful rays, because quite suddenly his glasses go black.

"Get in!" he calls, and with a heart filled with dread I get into the clown car.

When you are unhappy, the devil wears a grin.

Stan, as it appears his name is, takes my details. "So you're American, are you?" he asks.

"Yup." I reply.

"I couldn't tell by the sight of you." he replies, looking at me.

Damn sorry about that, Stan, but my American flag dress is at the cleaner's and I would have sparklers hanging out of my ass, only last time I tried that routine I got second degree burns.

"Americans don't know a thing about driving," he tuts. "Wrong side of the road, too agressive, sometimes barefoot. Clueless, you people. Clueless."

Oh good, Stan. I see we're going to get on just fine. I wonder if this is the point where I tell him that when I lived in the States I would sometimes drive across country in my automatic Toyota with my left leg tucked underneath me as my right one stayed on the accelerator. I decide it wouldn't bode well.

We buckle up and get into the car. I navigate us out of the parking space when Stan roars right in my ear, "Automatic failure!"

I slam on the brakes and worry that little driblets of urine have just made their bid for freedom between my legs.

But oh he starts to run in when the light comes prowling in.

"What?" I ask.

"You didn't check the mirror." Stan replies calmly. He is seriously strange.

"Yes I did!" I replied hotly. Because I did.

"You didn't make me believe you did. It's all about body language. That's the one good thing you people have given us-the term' body language'. It's true. That's what the test examiner needs to know. I'm only giving you this lesson as they're going to test you."

Shaking, I drive us out of the lot.

And it's hell. I get "Automatic failure!" screamed at me no less than 15 times. I am, apparently, a complete waste of automotive navigation. I am an affront to the car industry. I use one hand to turn the car, I don't slow down before I get to a light that's already green (don't you want to kill those people who do that? Don't you?) and even worse-I don't approach roundabouts at less than 20 miles per hour.

"Less than 20 miles per hour?" I shout over the din of the rumbling diesel. "Can your car manage that, or do I need to go in the front and wind up the turnkey again?"

Halfway through my first hour of lessons, Stan turns to me. "Helen," he says in a grandfatherly way. "It's my goal to make you hate me so much you'll work hard on your driving just to pass your test to get away from me."

"Oh, Stan," I said kindly while smiling sweetly at him. "We passed that milestone half and hour ago."

One part of the test is to park on a street and reverse around a corner. You may think this is easy. You may think you could do it.

But trust me.

You can't.

According to driving regulations, wou have to stop three times while doing this, just to assure your paranoid fears that no car has just suddenly appeared from the back end of a David Blaine magic trick. How'd I learn this? After being told to park on a side street and reverse around a corner, I did just that. I signalled. I checked my mirrors.

And I got yelled at with "Automatic failure!"

"What?" I cried exhausted. I hated Stan. I hated cars. I rued the day the pony and cart went out of style. "What could I possibly have done wrong there?"

He explained the three points when I have to actually stop the car. Three times. I look at him like he's a circus chimp.

"Do you actually drive like that?" I ask.

He nods. "I do, and all safe drivers should."

"Right. Do you actually get anywhere?"

"I do."

"And none of your neighbors have ever threatened you with grievous bodily harm?"

"They haven't."

I'm so fucked on this test.

At the end of the hour, driving back to the parking lot, the icing on the cake occurs. I get stuck behind a double-decker bus hauling teenagers somewhere. They all look at me driving the World's Oldest Car with it's big fuck-me red letter "L" on it, and they all cram into the back windows and laugh and point.

I hate everyone.

Most of all Stan.

Henry Ford's pretty low on the list, too.

So let the sun shine in!
Face it with a grin!
Smilers never lose,
And Frowners never win!
So let the sun shine in!
Face it with a grin!
Open up your heart and let the sun shine in

-H.

PS-very depressed. Just found out the home of my dreams has sold only two days after us finding it and trying to get ahold of the estate agent. It was Georgian (so built late 1700's), in our price range and in Whitney Houston. And almost no homes in Whitney Houston are in our price range. It's...what...1:00 pm? Yeah. I'm going to need to be drinking soon.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:48 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
Post contains 1766 words, total size 9 kb.

1 OMG Helen now I am tramatized and will never drive in the UK for sake of my own life....I get the "Would never know by the look of you" looks and comments from ppl when I'm in England. Because despite living in FL I'm pale, kinda chubby and like you always forget my American flag dress at home. That's alright don't worry, my fiance hasn't passed his test and he's 26 and English.

Posted by: Juls at April 19, 2005 12:55 PM (9aRbg)

2 You think the UK is bad? Try Jersey... all the same shit as the British test but on roads that are just wide enough to fit a horse down

Posted by: Robert at April 19, 2005 01:19 PM (kXZI6)

3 *LOL* Sorry about all your troubles, but that was hilarious. I'm guessing that the instructor would really freak if you tried to drive with a venti pumpkin latte in one hand, eh? Do they really put a big red L on the cars, or was that poetic license?

Posted by: ~Easy at April 19, 2005 01:22 PM (npJc/)

4 No it's true. There really is a big red "L" on it. Really. Like the car in this pic http://www.drivingambition.info/index.html only bigger. Much bigger. And lit up from underneath. Honest.

Posted by: Helen at April 19, 2005 01:33 PM (Oxw5k)

5 Um, do you have any pictures of the sparklers sticking out of your ass? I really wouldn't mind seeing that, although I'm sorry about the burns. Keep in touch with the estate agent on the house, sales have been known to fall through.

Posted by: RP at April 19, 2005 01:33 PM (LlPKh)

6 If you get your promotion do you get a driver? Any Country that prefers their beer warm should not be telling us we do not know how to drive.

Posted by: Drew at April 19, 2005 01:36 PM (CBlhQ)

7 Oh, poor Helen. I just don't think I could do it lol. I dread taking the written test in several months. Yeash, I only moved across the country,not FROM another one. And these people in New England DO NOT now how to drive I tell you. There is a reason why they call people from Massachusetts MASSHOLES. (and I can say this as I grew up there as a child). Good luck on your next lesson!

Posted by: justme at April 19, 2005 01:47 PM (JIMTD)

8 Oh, Helen, I'm so sorry! Stan sounds like a complete ass and should have his headed handed to him with a siding of "L!" Keep trying, girl. You'll get there. And when you do, I'm sure you'll have one of those oh-so-sweet-but-scathing remarks for Stan.

Posted by: scorpy at April 19, 2005 01:55 PM (SWpAG)

9 Wow... you must have amazing self control! Driving is my thing.. I'm an impatient driver (not a bad one, just slightly impatient) and I think I might have killed Stan if I were you.. or spontaneously combusted at the sheer frustration of having to restrain myself!

Posted by: Erin at April 19, 2005 02:01 PM (BuifH)

10 I am so scared. So super super scared for myself when I go back home after I don't know how many years of not driving and have to take that goddamed test. I'm like a scared bunny in a car already.

Posted by: Kate at April 19, 2005 02:43 PM (OaaTY)

11 Stan makes fun of us Americans, yet they think it's ok to REVERSE around a corner?!

Posted by: GrumpyBunny at April 19, 2005 05:06 PM (w3aVF)

12 I know about those huge red "L" things. It took me several visits to the UK to figure out exactly what they were.... Now when I'm there and I see one in the back window of a car or, more likely, on a motorbike I know it's not for "Loser" but "Learner" and I feel very, very sorry for the poor person who is labeled as such.... Hang in there Helen, you will prevail! Also, RP is correct, keep in touch with the estate agent. That house could be back on the market at any time! If it's meant to be, it will be!

Posted by: Kathy at April 19, 2005 05:47 PM (87x4U)

13 You have made it official for me; I will never more to a foreign country if I have to take a driving test again!

Posted by: kenju at April 19, 2005 07:04 PM (Z0YaI)

14 Guess I should preview more; I meant to say MOVE, of course. Sorry.

Posted by: kenju at April 19, 2005 07:05 PM (Z0YaI)

15 Long time lurker... I just had to comment on the reversing around the corner thing... I live in WA, Seattle area and they make us do that for driving tests too. I never understood it because, really, how many times have you had to reverse around a corner? I think it's supposed to simulate backing out of a driveway, but still.

Posted by: Lindsay at April 19, 2005 08:09 PM (ADqVh)

16 Helen, you never fail to impress me. You are the only other person on this planet that I know of that not only has the word "fugly" as part of her vocabulary, but can properly use it in a sentence. I once had a friend that used it, but he is now deceased.

Posted by: diamond dave at April 19, 2005 10:29 PM (3nbmf)

17 Helen Helen What you need to do ( since your instructor is a jerk and hates Americans) is import a Ford F250 truck with a cattle guard made out of pipe with cement in it and take him for a little drive. While on your little trip drive like you are in Dallas or better yet one of those little towns that border with Mexico (aggressive as hell). One of two things will result from this trip, your teacher will either soil himself (good for a laugh and a can also be used to blackmail him) or you will scare him so bad that he will submit to your will and pass you. Just my advice Enjoy A

Posted by: Agamemnon at April 19, 2005 10:47 PM (oMGhn)

18 Damn sorry about that, Stan, but my American flag dress is at the cleaner's and I would have sparklers hanging out of my ass, only last time I tried that routine I got second degree burns. Oh.my.fucking.god!!!! I think I sharted a little and there's some foreign substance resembling a chewed up noodle on my monitor!!!

Posted by: sporty at April 20, 2005 02:53 AM (56gUM)

19 I loved this post! I am in exactly the same situation...except that I have been driving in the UK for three years. Without a license. I know it's wrong, I really do...but everyone here fails at least once. Most fail several times. I refuse to drive around with a big friggin' L on my car. I have to take the test, yes...but I dread it. I don't want to pay to have driving lessons after driving for twenty years in the States, and I'll probably fail, and fail, and fail. Fuck 'em.

Posted by: Ravven at April 22, 2005 12:18 PM (7izU2)

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