My daughter has her restricted driving test this morning. She had been pretty chill about the whole thing until a couple of days ago, when her anxiety began to show. Yesterday evening we had some last minute parallel parking practice (why is that always the sticking point??) and it did not go well. The poor thing looks like death this morning. I don’t think she’s slept a wink. I’ll be glad to wave her off and have a coffee and read my book somewhere while she gets tested.
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She wants me to come with her! They are allowed a support person apparently. The tester person looks kind enough anyway.
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That wasn’t the person testing! It’s another guy, grumpy Alan. He looked very darkly at me when we got introduced. This is going to be painful.
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He has already shouted at me twice! Once for looking like I wanted to ride shotgun – but I was only putting the keys in the car, and then when I tried to explain how to put the demister on. I have to sit down and shut up in the back, apparently. Why doesn’t my daughter put the lights on? It’s raining and gloomy. Do you think if I mouthed it to her in the rear view mirror she would get it, or will that just distract her? And maybe grumpy Alan can see me in his stupid stick-on mirror, and that would be an instant fail. He’s got it in for her, I know it. He knows she went to a poncey private school, and they hate those entitled brats, it’s a well known fact. Fair enough, but she’s not like that. Or maybe it’s the nose ring? I hate it when people make snap judgements.
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Oh God she’s hit a curb, and we’re only 30 seconds in.
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Too fast! Drive to the conditions!
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It’s the parallel park. I can’t look. At least it’s a quiet street. Why are we in front of someone’s driveway??
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Keep back, you tossers – can’t you see those L plates? It’s a 30 kph zone, idiots – can’t you see that sign? Or the cones? Or the workmen? Or that bloody great digger?? If you rear end my car you’ll get what for.
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30 minutes! Surely that’s long enough. I’ve seen more of the back streets of Raumati and Paraparaumu than I ever expected to see in one lifetime. This is torture.
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How many right and left turns do we need? Aren’t they all the same? He’s just waiting for her to make a critical error. At least she hasn’t made any brrrm brrrm noises, or the sound of squealing brakes, as she thought she might. She seems strangely calm and collected.
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I’ve never seen so many roundabouts. Excessive, surely? Ooh where did that car come from? Was she meant to give way to him??
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We’re heading onto the motorway! OMG he wants her to cut across two lanes of traffic and take the next right, in rush hour traffic! This is madness. We’re all going to die.
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Is cutting the corner at a turn such a bad thing? Wasn’t there something called a critical error? Is that one? I can’t remember.
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Desperate for a coffee.
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Will this never end?? Set me free!
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I’m so cross with this guy. Am I going to be brave enough to say to him that I bet he has the lowest pass rate of anyone? Such bad luck to get him. Hopefully she gets someone else next time.
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She passed! He said she did a good job! Such a sense of relief. What a nice guy.