By the time I was 16 and a half years old, I was ready to take my driving test. I had been driving with my permit for about five months, and couldn't wait to trade it in for the permanent thing. With 20 hours of Driver's Ed in my mind and my permit in hand, I walked into the DMV on the day of my first test with confidence. This was going to be easy.

     The man who was testing me got into the passenger seat and instructed me to pull around to the back of the building where I was going to have to parallel park. "You have three back-ups," he warned me.

     One...Two...Three...I didn't make it into the spot. It was over. I was done. No license.

     I cried when my mom got back into the car. She reassured me I would practice more and get my license the next time. Little did she know, the next time around my test-giver would be THE DRAGON LADY.

     THE DRAGON LADY was the evilest person that existed in the driving license testing world. She was 107-years-old with thick glasses and a curly, white mop on her head that kids swore were snakes camouflaged as hair. She was notorious for failing everyone that came her way and even more notorious for being an evil bitch. Right before I took my test, she had been quoted in the newspaper as saying, "I try to fail every driver that is taking his or her test for the first time. I'm trying to keep the quota of bad drivers down."

     One of my close friends, Erin, had taken her test just a few months before. It was a beautiful, warm, summer day out, a day you roll down your windows when you have no air conditioning in your car, and parallel parking had not yet been added to the driving test (They joyfully added it right before I took my test). It would be a piece of cake to pass.

     Erin sat in her car and waited for her driving test examiner to come out of the DMV and replace her older sister's spot into the passenger seat.

     "Oh, look!" Erin said, pointing to the little, old lady who had just come through the DMV's door. "That must be who is giving me my test." Erin was happy because this woman reminded her of her grandmother. Little did she know this grandmother-like woman was the evil, wretched DRAGON LADY.

     With the wind tickling her face, Erin followed THE DRAGON LADY'S instructions. Step by step she drove perfectly around the testing center.

     She was almost finished when the wind blew her hair into her eyes. She removed one hand from the steering wheel and pushed her hair out of her sight.

     "WHAT ARE YOU DOING??" screamed THE DRAGON LADY. "YOU CANNOT TAKE YOUR HAND OFF OF THE WHEEL!"

     Erin was confused. "But my hair blew in my eyes and I couldn't see anything," she tried to explain to THE DRAGON LADY. Would THE DRAGON LADY have rather she crashed?

     "IT DOES NOT MATTER! IT IS ILLEGAL TO DRIVE WITH ONE HAND! YOU FAIL!" She stamped Erin's permit with the FAILED mark.

     I thought about this story as I sat, waiting to take my second stab at the big license test.

     “GET OUT OF THE CAR MOM!” My mom looked up to see whose voice had screeched the name only two girls in the world called her by. An old face was peering into the passenger window. RAP, RAP, RAP. THE DRAGON LADY banged on my door.

     My mother got out of the car and THE DRAGON LADY got in. Needless to say, I was so nervous, I couldn’t parallel park once again. After she screamed at me for gripping the steering wheel incorrectly, I was lost…

     The third time, I actually passed the parallel parking section of the test. I was thrilled! Here I was, on my way to becoming a licensed driver!

     I followed the driving tester’s instructions to make a right at a red light with a yield sign. I slowed down at the yield to make sure no oncoming traffic was coming. 

     “What are you doing?” the examiner asked me. 

     “Slowing down at this yield,” I explained. 

     “Don’t slow down! Go!!”

     I was pretty confused considering my 20 hours of Driver’s Ed had taught me you’re supposed to slow down at a yield sign.

     He made me turn around and go through the yield again. This time I was nervous and didn’t hit my break once as I went around the turn. 

     “I’m sorry but your wheel touched the white line of the shoulder of the yield. I have to fail you.” 

     I had apparently been concentrating on not slowing down that I had made too much of a sharp turn. I hadn’t realized touching the white line was illegal, especially when making a turn. The white line was a good two feet away from the curb, leaving a lot of room. Years later, they repaved the road and now no white line even exists.

     I wasn’t even upset I didn’t pass. I was more excited I passed parallel parking.

     “That’s it!” my mom said when I told her I had failed once again. “We are never coming back to this DMV again!!” I had been taking my test at the closest DMV, which was located a mile from Philadelphia. The people who worked there had become tainted from all the rough city people who came through the DMV, day in and day out. 

     Weeks later, I was yet again, behind the wheel taking the driving test. This time, I went to a driving center 20 miles away, up in the country. 

     “You’re 17 already. Why haven’t you gotten your license yet?” the driving test examiner asked me when he looked at my driving test rap sheet. 

     I told him I had trouble parallel parking. 

     “Well, let’s go get your license!!” he said excitedly.

     While walking to my car, he stopped suddenly. “Look!” he pointed with a huge smile on my face. “A butterfly!” There on the black pavement, was a butterfly. “How beautiful…” he added, his voice trailing off as if in an environmental trance. 

     We got in my car and he pointed to a pile of logs on the side of the building. “That’s where you’ll be parallel parking.”

     Instead of the normal, city-standard, bright orange cones I had failed to park between before, I had no problem parking between two logs. 

     After the test was over, the examiner asked me to pull on the side of the building and park. He spouted out a few tips and handed me my permit. 

     “Did I pass?” I asked.

     “What does your permit say?” the man said.

     I looked.

     PASSED.

     One fender bender and a major accident later, I’m a perfect driver!