Samantha Jo Curtis
English 101
Narrative Essay
Road Test: Take 2
As I pulled back into the Police Station, I impatiently waited to hear what the
instructor had to say. We both sat in my car while he slowly placed checks in a variety of
different boxes on his small sheet of paper. After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally
looked up at me and said the words that I had been waiting for all of my life, “You
Passed!” As he spoke those two tiny words, a grin formed on my face from ear to ear, and
we both got out of the car to go tell my mother. It had been such a process to get my
license that I don’t know what I would have done if I would have failed again. First of all,
a few of my peers and I had to sit through hours of driver’s education classes just to be
able to get into the driver’s seat. Then, after hours of driving I gained a new freedom: my
permit. After having my permit for what seemed like years I sent out to take my first road
test, which I failed. I thought that it was the end of the world when my instructor told me
I was going to have to come back again, but after several hours of crying I still survived. I
didn’t know it then, but now I realize that I am glad that I failed my first time.
Driver’s Education was unlike any other class that I have ever taken. It was after
school in one of the many empty classrooms in the high school. We would learn road
signs, traffic laws and many parts of the car. To me, it seemed like all we ever did was
play games and have snacks, but once I got into the car I realized how much I really had
learned. At the end of the month long class everyone had to take a written test about
things that we had learned. Of course everyone passed and it was time to get in the car
and start driving. I was given my permit after only 15 hours of driving, and then it was up
to my parents to guide me to becoming a cautious driver.
At that point in my life, having my permit was the greatest freedom in the world
to me. I wanted to drive everywhere my parents and I went. It got to the point with my
mother that I didn’t even have to ask to drive anymore. She would just take her place in
the passenger seat and hand me the keys. Driving with my mother was always a lot easier
than with my father. Even though my mother tended to use her imaginary brake and made
many gasping noises, she always told me I was doing a good job and to keep up the good
work. My father, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Even though the speed
limit sign would say 45 MPH, he told me while I was in his car, I would go his speed
limit. The cars behind me didn’t appreciate this very much and after driving with him as a
passenger, I couldn’t wait to get out of the car at our destination. I drove many hours and
finally my parents gave me permission to send for my license. I waited for weeks for my
date to come back and then one day it came.
Eventually, the day that I had been waiting for arrived. I woke up that morning
and I was more nervous than I have ever been in my whole life and my morning only got
worse from there. It didn’t help that my mother had just had surgery and wouldn’t be able
to take me. I had to go with my father, the man who made me a nervous wreck driving no
matter how much I drove with him. We left my house late as usual and I did not get a
chance to drive much before I had to be at the Police Station. After waiting for about
twenty minutes, it was my turn! My nerves only got worse from there on out. The
instructor was a large, intimidating looking man who reminded me of driving with my
father. Once we were both acquainted, we got into my car and drove away. I drove for
about 10 minutes around town, hanging on to every one of his directions, and then it was
time to parallel park. I was pretty confidant about my parking so I didn’t think it would
be a big deal, but my nerves still hadn’t calmed down and I was very shaky. I pulled up
next to the big blue van like I had been taught and slowly backed into the spot. I didn’t
realize how close I was to the curb until I heard a thump, and my back tire hit it. I knew it
right then, I failed. He had me pull back into the police station where he told me the bad
news. I was holding back tears while he gave me the papers I needed to send back to the
state to get another date. I stayed in the car and waited for my father to come out to take
me home. Once I got home, I had to explain to my family why I had failed, and even
though I didn’t want to my mother made me fill out the papers and send them in that day
to get another date. It seemed like the end of the world to me because I did not want to
tell any of my friends that I had failed.
A little less than a month later I got my second date back. I was a little more
confidant this time that I would pass. Then the day came that I had to take the road test
again. My day started off a little smoother than last time. My mother had healed from
surgery so she was able to take me and we had everything ready. I had plenty of time to
practice up on my driving before the test too. I was praying that I did not have the same
intimidating man that I had the first time, but once I got to the Police Station, there he
stood. I think he could tell that I was a little more confidant this time and he seemed a lot
nicer. I pulled out of the station the same way I always had and followed every one of his
directions. He even started a conversation with me as I drove and almost all of my
anxiety seemed to disappear into thin air. Then, he told me it was time for me to parallel
park. My nerves jumped a little at those words, but I was confidant that I could do it. I
pulled up to that same big blue van as I had before and I pulled in without a problem.
With a smile on both of our faces, he told me I could drive back to the Police Station. I
Passed!
It was the best feeling knowing that I had finally passed and would not have to
drive with my parents all the time. When I look back on this experience I am in some
ways happy that I failed my first time. I can say for sure that I am a much more aware
and cautious driver. I truly appreciate my license so much more because it was something
that I had to work hard for. Failing is a big part of everyone’s life. It makes you grateful
for the things that you have achieved.