After receiving a well-worded summons from the Department of Motor Vehicles stating that at my age, I needed to take the road test to renew my driving license, I kept a low profile, hoping it would go away. My 80th birthday was fast approaching.
I pictured this uniformed wiseacre 30-something yelling, “I said left Mrs. Crombie, not right”… and so on. After all, on my only other road test over 60 years ago at the South Tacoma DMV, I had collapsed in a sobbing heap after an unsuccessful attempt at parallel parking. I failed my first road test at age 15—so how hard was this going to be? Suppose I don’t pass and need someone to cart me
around? What an unbearable thought!
On a proper Monday morning before my birthday, I stepped on the gas and drove my VW Beetle down Route 47, through our local farmland, finally locating the DMV in a strip mall next to a supermarket. The sign on the door (next to the one discouraging the use of concealed weapons) informed me the place was closed on Mondays.
Four days later, I gathered up enough mojo to try it again. I was met by lines for every conceivable motor matter. There was a special line for seniors, a special line for the written test and so on.
A very nice fellow, really, asked me pertinent questions about any DUIs I might have incurred, how many people I had hit, etc. He then examined my eyes. I could not read his chart until he informed me that if I was wearing bifocals, I should maybe look up, not down. Well said.
I seated myself in the designated area and waited for what came next. To my delight, there was no written test. You do get a new, refreshed photograph of yourself, though.
I looked around at kids, other seniors and a woman whose red lace thong was visible in the back. That immediately put me at ease. No magazines were supplied to idle away the time. This was okay because most people were peering into their devices.
An elderly gentleman with white hair and a clipboard approached me. A sweatshirt (with the name “Paul”) was paired with a pair of jeans. This was it. However, he appeared to be more interested in my VW Bug than having me take him for a spin. I told him I had had one when they had first come out in the ‘60s. He then informed me that was about the same time he had started work with the government.
We had a nice drive around the neighborhood, stopping at stop signs, putting on turn signals, turning at traffic lights and parking on a hill. I am happy to report that I passed.
Oh, it was a glorious moment, so I only did what came naturally—after a high-five to my new friend, Paul, I thoroughly enjoyed a few well thought-out victory laps.
Wynne Crombie, age 80, of Nicholasville, Kentucky, has a master’s degree in adult education. She has taught both stateside and with the Department of Defense at Aviano Air Base in Italy and in Berlin. Her work has appeared in Alaska Airlines Magazine, Travel + Leisure, Italy Magazine, Dallas Morning News, Catholic Digest, Senior Living, Birds and Blooms, Yours Magazine (UK), Get Lost Magazine (AU) and Your Genealogy Today.
If you have a story to share, email the editor: debra@generations808.com.
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