All's well that ends . . .(S.T.F. series)

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      Now you'd think that after failing a driving test three times, I would be deleriously happy now just to clutch my hard won, shiny new Driver's license in my hands. I must admit to a season of thoughtless bragging. So, what happened next?  It rained for three out of the next four weekends. The windshield wipers didn't have a fighting chance.
     At my next appointment with my neurologist, I discovered my aching knees and swollen legs and numb prickly feet had a name.  Neuropathy. And that calm educated assessment had an ominous price tag.  Driving privileges shall again be assessed.  The State shall be notified. It looked like a command performance.  Turned out it was.
     When I contacted my kids that indeed my privileges behind the wheel were again in jeopardy , they gallantly restrained themselves.  And I tried to keep the "Why me" attitude from souring what little positive outlook I had left. Oh sure, I griped and despised any failulre of my well-worn body to keep up with the rest of me, but it is what it is.  So I still had my license but it didn't hold any magic for me, anymore.
     Just as well, for the little pocket in my wallet where I had proudly slipped my driver's  license had sunk to its lowest depths; it had glued itself shut. And I must be the good sport and admit-
      "You just can't fight City Hall."  For honestly, by the time I stash my awkward walker in the trunk, throw my purse on the back seat, fold up my slicker and find the car keys, I tend to leave my pocketbook in the middle of the driveway.  Besides, Im all tuckered out. The responsibility!
     Then it is that I'd like nothing better than to see a chauffeur driven car appear with a hand-lettered M I G G Y sign on the front. 
     All is well however regardless of how it ends.


    


    

The Driver's License

It wasn't the way I planned it.
       Driving was the last thing I'd ever give up.  Driving all those years, never an accident, never a traffic ticket nor a crumpled fender. But here I was waiting in line in a borrowed car at the Pennsylvania Vehicle Testing Station.  All I had to do was pass the eye exam and the physical driving exam. I smiled in the rear view mirror at myself.
       "Wonder how many grannies are here?"  I patted the Volvo steering wheel.  And then he was at the door.  The tester!
         "Alright, alright!" and he settled his ample size next to mine. I had decided not to be fatuous, just to listen to the directions. Besides I wanted to concentrate. Everything was going swimmingly until the first question.  The emergency signals.  Where were they?  I had no idea. That he did was to his everlasting credit.  But he was the test-er and I was the testee!  
     Then we ascended a small hill to the parallel parking torture chamber.  Orange barrels parked where regular cars should be. My assignment, park behind the first two. I thought I did okay, but out of nowhere he gave a mighty voice.
       "Now, go down the hill and return to the starting lineup." Aha, an accelerated line.  Obediently, I pulled to the curb and waited for him to speak.  "You'll be hearing soon." And he jumped out of the car.  I did report back in a few weeks and made application for another driving test.  Same test, same station and same lump inthe middle of my stomch.
      Driving up the incline where the Orange County orange barrels stood, i thought to myself, "Orange-bellied sapsuckers!" This time I did it faster, but I was never sure whether or not that was a plus. When I went to straighten up in reverse, he yelled at me full bore.
     "Stop!  STOP!"
      " WHY?"
     "You've already had your three reverses."
      "I didn't know anyone was counting." I mumbled.So another FAILED on the famous test.
One more to go.  How had this seemingly simple requirement produced such anxiety? This time we went to a different part of the city and watched each tester walk to each nervous driver, Now it was my time and I babbled like the old lady that I am. But he neither smiled nor did he laugh.  But when we had successfully navigated our way around those barrels,he did say one word rather disdainfully.
       "You passed!" But that clearly was not the END.