In the Driver Seat (Part 2)

So, I passed my driver’s test. Barely. But that doesn’t seem to matter in the state of Kentucky. I practiced for like an hour prior and, by the end of it, I still wasn’t confident in my abilities. I finally learned how to parallel park while getting stared down at the man who owned the car I was practicing on.
Here’s the thing, Daryl, my car, has good days and bad days. Some days, he runs like a brand-new Mercedes. Other days, he runs like a 25-year passed down hoopty. Above all, he is trying his hardest. The day I took my test, Daryl really showed his age. He needed encouragement to accelerate and shook when I was at a standstill. The good thing is, the instructor was there to judge my driving and not my car.
Or, maybe it wasn’t so good. First of all, he was a bitter old man that smelled like cinnamon and was out of breath from walking from his car to mine (which was only like two feet). He was the blandest man I have ever met. He sparked no conversation and only spoke to tell me what to do. So, my plan of distraction was not going to work.
He told me to turn a couple times, then went straight into my three-point turn. I was so overly confident in my ability to do so until I saw the large group of people standing on the street I was told to back into. I have never broken into a sweat so fast. When I turned into the street, the instructor screamed, “WOAH!” and I just knew I had failed.
After that catastrophe, he told me to parallel park. By this time my legs were gelatinous and my hands were so shaky I almost handed myself the L and walked home. For some reason, maybe it the rosary in my rear-view mirror or the finless Ichthys (Jesus fish) on my bumper, God was really on my side and, I parallel parked with ease. The terrifying part was over, or so I thought.
I messed up on the dumbest thing, and I hate myself for it. He told me to turn right. I turned on my right turning signal and, turned left. I’ve never been good with directions and even still to this day hold my hands up making an L with my index finger and thumb to tell the difference between my right and left.
Despite all of my anxiety, mistakes, and sweat, I passed! Now, I can blast music and go down country roads (not too fast though because Daryl can’t handle it.). I can pick up all my friends (but only one at a time because that’s the law.) My brother can stay off my tail about driving too slow (but there’s always one guy who’s not afraid to lay on their horn.) The bottom line is, I am free and I love it. Now, if anyone would like to donate money to pay for my gas, it would be much obliged.