Department of Motor Vehicles

I thought learning how to drive was going so well. I took lessons and everything. My instructors name was Bingo. He was awesome; we'd drive around for 40 minutes or so, listening to jazz on the radio talking about art. I'm not even joking, the man was great. He used to be a newspaper reporter and would tell me how he just couldn't understand how those "republican fuckers got control of our government" and what they had against "the reefer." I was even pretty good at driving too. I never hit anything, living or not, and was not bad at parking. I handled ice patches with expertise. And then I took the road test. My tester got in the car and as i wished him a good morning he cut me off and told me to start the car. I fiddled around with my seat for a minute, trying to be able to see out my mirrors and whatnot, and then he mumbled something else. I asked what he said and then he YELLED to pull out. I commenced to start shaking. While other things happened such as him slamming on the brakes while when I was at least a hundred feet away from a double parked truck saying I was going to hit it, yelling once again when I parked just about a foot away from the curb saying I was too far (one foot = legal limit, no?), and him grabbing the wheel from me at least three times, I won't bore you with details.

FAIL.

Because I'm a fan of irony, download Beautiful Calm Driving by Sia. (Like driving tests, Sia makes me weep. I bawled like a baby at the series finale of Six Feet Under partially thanks to her song Breathe Me, but mostly because it was the series finale of Six Feet Under. I LOVE TV.)