My palms were a little sweatier, my mouth was a little drier, and my heart beat a little faster as I walked the halls of John Marshall Junior Senior High School on that fateful Tuesday in March. A number of snowstorms had blown through Milwaukee over the past few weeks and the drifts along the side of the road were piled up several feet above the curb. As I jammed the last few items into my locker, grabbed my coat and hurried past the empty courtyard the sun poured in and a few flakes floated to the ground.
Dad was waiting in the Dodge as I picked my way through the slow moving body of students. Carefully stepping on the snow bank in front of the car I wanted to be sure no snow would make its way over the sides of my shoe and ruin my dry socks. Getting in the passenger’s seat I noticed Dad had the windshield wipers on low speed. If there was an intermittent speed available at that time it hadn’t made it as a standard feature on the Dodge 330 model.
Even though I knew we had plenty of time to reach the testing station I just wanted everyone to clear off the road so we could be on our way. Finally, Dad spotted an opening and pulled away. Sensing my anxiety he told me to unzip my jacket, make myself comfortable and take a few deep breaths. All right he may not have told me to take a few deep breaths, but he did his best to help me relax.
Now, just like every school has a teacher with a reputation for being the toughest and most feared by students, so it was for a particular driving test administrator. According to some rumors his pass rate was less than half of any of the other tester’s, and supposedly he said things to disrupt the concentration of the person taking the test.
When I arrived he was just leaving to take someone for her test so I figured I was in good shape. Imagine my dismay when they returned ten minutes later and he turned to me and asked if I was ready. We walked out of the station, down to the corner, around the snow bank and back to the car. I unlocked the passenger door and slid across the bench seat to the driver’s side. He got in behind me, locked his door and put on his seat belt as I put on mine. Then, he told me to wait for his instructions throughout the test.
It had begun to snow heavier so I made my mind up to turn on the wipers for the duration of the test. When he signaled me to turn on the ignition and pull out into traffic, I carefully started the engine, checked the mirrors, looked over my shoulder and edged out onto the street. Since conditions warranted extra caution I kept the speed below the 25 MPH speed limit.
He put me through the paces doing left turns, right turns, and numerous lane changes. He had me go to a side street to do the famous “Y-turn,” and then to a convenient location a block further to do the dreaded parallel parking. Fortunately, Mom had spent literally hours with me practicing backing into the smallest of spaces even when the streets were icy.
As I turned to face the rear of the car I tried to glance down at his clipboard to see how I was scoring but I realized I needed to stay focused and really didn’t comprehend anything my eyes might of scanned. Despite the falling snow the road surface remained dry and I slid into the space without any difficulty.
Before we even made it back to the testing station he told me I had passed. He really didn’t seem so tough. Then, he added a cautionary note saying this was just the start of my driving privilege and I should continue to work at improving my driving skills. That night I took the car over to the empty Red Owl parking lot and did donuts.
What do you remember about your road test? Please share in the comments section.
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