Kimra Traynor Herb

Side
Streets
by
Kimra Traynor Herb
IPS Features

The real badge of adulthood

    "Mom, you and I really need to spend some time together sometime." This is what my oldest son said to me, beseechingly, about a week ago. I must of looked at the kid incredulously (because when am I not willing?) It's he that is always holed up in his room or off with his friends), he added, "I mean it, we never do anything alone; just the two of us." I think I may have suggested us doing something, right then because I remember him saying, "Well.... not NOW, Mom, I just meant, SOMETIME in the future."
     We left it at that. Then came this past Wednesday, the first day of school for my three boys, but also for my new sixteen year old: THE BIG DAY. He was missing the first day of school to take his driving test, the road test, the first real badge of adulthood. We had called ahead and were told that although the tests were given from 10:20 to 11:30 and 2:20- 3:00 on Wednesdays and Thursdays, we had to be in the building and signed up PRIOR TO 8 a.m. if we wanted to have even a glimmer of hope of being one of the lucky tested. "There's no guarantee." The voice on the phone said, "First come, first serve." I had my son drive me to the county courthouse and we parked the car optimistically.
        "Just think," I said, "soon you'll have your LICENSE!" There was a day when I would have choked just to voice those words, but those days were long gone- I had driven too many ruts in the road back and forth between the high school and soccer games, hours early to accommodate his schedule and I felt ready for him to take up some of this responsibility. When we walked into the building, both of us felt sure that we would not have to wait until the afternoon testing session because we would surely be the only ones there- after all, it WAS the first day of school.
We were wrong. Folks of every social economic class, from the twangy "we don't get to the big city very often", vintage pickup driving kids and their parents to the "my daughter's BMW SUV is parked right out back and please don't sit too near us" moms and their children. We fell somewhere in between those two groups, but where we didn't fall was the beginning of the line. "I told you we should have left earlier." I hissed to my son as twenty pairs of eyes watched us bicker.
"Just calm down, Mom, you don't know we won't get in." My son replied, slumping against the wall. (All the chairs were taken.)
We didn't get in. We were instructed by the heavyset blonde state highway patrol woman "To be back promptly at 1" and that she would give my son his test in the afternoon. We were back promptly at 1. So were several other families. The sky was overcast, and I was nervous. There was a big sign on the wall which proclaimed: NO DRIVING TEST GIVEN IN RAIN!
      "What do you think that means?" I asked a construction worker type who was there with his younger brother.
      "I asked her and she said if there is even a speck of rain she wouldn't go out on the road with these kids."
    2:20 rolled around and she took the first girl for testing. My son was #2. Hooray! Except..... while the first girl was out driving, it began to rain. Just little drops at first, but then great, fat drops of rain. The instructor and the girl returned. "That's it for today." The trooper announced. "All tests are canceled for today!"
"What?!" I yelped. We had been sitting there all day. What the heck did she MEAN 'tests were canceled.'
"All driving tests are canceled. No driving tests given in the rain. Come back tomorrow." She pointed to the sign like I was too ignorant to understand basic English.
"But since he was next," I beseeched. "Surely that means that he will have a guaranteed first spot tomorrow morning?"
   "Ummm. Nope." She said, not a trace of sympathy that we had just spent 9 hours on in a hallway devoid of reading material, any trace of comfort and mingling with the folks straight from Deliverance. "Better get here early; the list fills up fast."
The next morning we repeated the process and arrived early. Really early. We were FIRST on the list. "Let's go to McDonalds or something since we have more than 2 hours to wait." My son prompted. I agreed, and when we returned, the room was full.
"Oh," the trooper said. "You didn't CHECK IN- show me your identification- you lost your spot. I'll put you back on the list; you'll be #3."
    I glared at my son. "Why didn't you tell me we had to CHECK IN?!" I had been out of the room when he checked in the day previous and knew nothing about the process.
    "I forgot." He squeaked. "Sorry."
       At 10:20 we were nervously awaiting the tests to begin when an altercation broke out in her office and an ancient grizzled man wearing overalls had to be escorted out of the building by a sheriff. Something along the lines of "No cotton-pickin' gawl blamed woman's going to tell ME I cain't drive!" as he was being towed out of there. By this time it was 10:45 and we were nervous.
   "We could have been FIRST!" I hissed to my son again.
   "I KNOW, MOM!" He shot back. "Do you think I LIKE sitting here?"
        About 11:20 my son finally got to take his test. I was pretty sure my head was going to explode- it hurt like it was on fire from the stress of waiting for two days. But, my son passed and soon we went and got his picture made for the license. "Smile with your teeth, baby," I said, "We paid five thousand dollars for those nice straight guys."
        On the way home, I reminded him that he had wanted to spend more time together, just the two of us. "I guess you got your wish." I said, laughing.
      "Yes, yes I did." He laughed. "Good times, Mom, good times."