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Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Oh perish the thought!

 Tomorrow is a red letter day! I will have a real live died in the wool, truly-wooly seventeen year old. At least living out here in Africa, has postponed the inevitable for a year. I face, from tomorrow, a rite of passage that has my knees quivering. The Learner Driver!

I'm wondering what colour the L ought to be???? Pink with sequence? Shouldn't the L give some clues as to the severity and nature of the danger our fellow road ragers are facing? "Caution Blonde Learner Driver and Very Frightened instructor aboard." Truth be told due to some totally avoidable mismanagement of my paperwork, I had to retake my drivers again a few months ago and so I am very well aware of the grave situation the "silver bullet" and I face.

Now I know you are all thinking Pfft...so what big whoopee...but I'll have you know, I hadn't parallel parked since I passed my last driver's test in Saskatchewan, Canada.( That was at least 16 years ago..) I was eight and a half months preggers, and had only been in the country for a month or so, just long enough for my international driver's permit to expire. Roger had done almost all of the driving, and so I hadn't really practiced driving on the right side of the road. How difficult could it be really?

I swatted the theory portion of the test quite diligently and did quite well. Next came the practicle. I just had to remember to keep right. When the vehicle eventually came to a stop,post-test, the examiner was looking a little white  washed. "Do you get danger pay? ", I asked. "Not enough," he whistled. Tears were pricking my eyes, it was really bad, I had made a few sorties on to the left side of the road, particularly after left turns, I was nervous so I prattered away continually hoping to distract the man from the level of mortal peril he was in. Eventually I was so focussed on keeping to the right I started driving in the parking bays. "We Canadian's usually use this portion of the road to park in, "came the ever so polite hint. I was off again talking rapidly about anything and everything and ramping the curb whilst giving my life history and parallel parking.

Imagion my surprise when he passed me. Well what would you do? Face certain death again, or help a pregnant fairy, just a little. I was grateful. Eventually, after 12 years in Canada I could drive safely in icy conditions, dig myself out of snow banks and keep to 30km's in the school zones. And not once did I collide into anything on the road. I did reverse into the garage door once or twice ( gotta make sure the darn thing is up when going backwards) and once for good measure, reversed my brand new car into Roger's brand new car. ( I hadn't noticed he had come home for lunch...) Otherwise I had a completely clean slate, not even one parking ticket. No legal infractions, if you exclude the time I was reprimanded by loudhailer one afternoon. "What sort of stop is that, Madam?" the traffic cop scolded, his loudhailer sticking out the window. "Not a very good one," I sheepishly yelled out my window. Murphy's Law! If I am going to slip through a stop street once in my entire life, I will get caught..

Back in South Africa, the licencing department was making some changes. Licences were now supposed to be on a card and not in an ID book anymore. Coming back into the country, this little detail had slipped me by. I was oblivious to the ruling, and  also to the fact that  I had a 3 month grace period to fix the whole ID/Card problem. After the grace period , a person would have to begin again and take the learners and practical test once more.  Oh Moggy the mortyfying...such was my fate.

I was stopped at a roadblock one day, when an officer requested my licence. I cheerily handed him my green ID book. "Beeeg Problem...." he said handing my book back to me. He explained that my licence was no longer valid and I had to drive to Palaborwa to get the licence on the card system. Palaborwa contained nothing but bad news."It didn't matter that I could drive on black icy roads, and never once landed in the ditch, it didn't matter that I hadn't got one parking ticket or that I held liscences for more than one country, I had to do it over again.....none of my pitiful sob stories worked.

And so it was I found myself ensconced in a very old VW beetle, all covered with "Mrs Van's Driving School" signs. I renamed Mrs Van, Fraulein Van. Her vehicle had  two steering wheels, mores the pity. One day at an intersection, I was instructed to turn right, "Hold on, " I hesitated," There's a car coming" Fraulein  Van's was in a hurry, she took over the controls and gunned it over the intersection amid many angry hooting vehicles. I wondered what else she got away with in her "Driving School Car." I noticed the locals giving the VW a wide birth and I don't think it was all due to the student driving. She was right wing to the luftwaffer and her teaching style was  militant. Oh,  the torture I suffered doing alley docking for a solid hour, till sweat dripped off my nose.

It took me 3 trips to the testing office to finally pass...South Africa has a new K53 way of driving, each maneuver is choreographed by many checks. "Mirror, blind spot,mirror,indicate, blind spot." I chanted in my first test. I nailed the yard test all the poles were upright. The examiner looked at her pad. " I don't think you made it, she said apologetically, you made over 75 points in observation errors."

The second test, I woke up, without my mojo....I just didn't feel good, despite the fact that I would be taking the test in the brand new " One Step" driving school's vehicle, or perhaps because it was my instructors brand new vehicle.( Oh yes, I had given Fraulein Van, the boot.) I failed with aplomb, crashing the vehicle into a pole whilst alley docking... I can remember grabbing my male examiners leg in anguish. "I know I've failed ," I wailed, but you have to come with me to see what I've done to the car....I hauled him, clipboard and all out of the vehicle.I had done a good job of crashing, the evidence was plain for all to see. ( I wasn't doing my cause any good, he would be making mental notes for next time, she's insane...don't let her out on the road... )

So in two tests, I hadn't even made it out of the yard. I was feeling imprisoned... Finally test three dawned.  The examiner led me into the room to give me my results. He hadn't forgotten the trauma of having his leg grabbed and made sure that he kept the big wooden desk between us. He began listing all my sins...you took your hands off the steering wheel 8 times...( drat that stupid bra strap, it nearly cost me my licence) I was beside myself had I failed again???? When he finally announced that I had narrowly squeaked through I was overjoyed. I began to bawl... he got nervous not sure which part of his anatomy I would grab this time in my emotional pre-menopausiality...I was ushered out of the door very speedily. all red eyed and looking like a panda bear ( gotta get waterproof mascara)

And so we begin the whole thing again....I'm off to get another steering wheel fitted...

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