I did it.

I passed my driving test today.

I wasn't nervous. I wouldn't let myself be nervous. I tried convincing myself I'm ready, I can do this. I was doubtful. Not nervous.

The receptionist told me to wait downstairs for car number four. I hastily read last-minute parking tips on my phone while waiting as the minutes stretched longer and longer. I spotted number four in the parking lot as a girl my age had gotten out. Her mother, who had been waiting for her outside, anxiously called if she passed. The girl confirmed. She said that the instructor was ready for me, and that it was his birthday today.

This has to be a good sign. 


The man was friendlier that I had imagined him. I wished him a happy birthday. "Word gets around doesn't it?"

I had already driven on the course beforehand. It's easy. The car's brake took a little getting used to and the roads were just a little wet, but I wouldn't let this intimidate me.

I drove, cautiously and attentively, but making sure I didn't go below the speed limit. I've been screamed at to accelerate too many times to let that be my downfall.

I waited at a light to turn left. Across from me was a car with its right blinker on, turning the same way I was. I waited for the car to turn. It was his right away after all. The instructor said "Are you paying attention?" Surely I was. "To the light?" I looked up, realizing that it had been a few precious seconds since I actually looked up, as I was concentrating on the other car. I had a green turn arrow. The other car had to have had a red arrow.

I thought, oh no, please don't let that fail me. But there was still a part inside of me that knew that it wouldn't have. It shouldn't have. I made sure to drive a perfect I could to make up for it.

There was also a wave of confidence that hit me. The hardest part was over. Getting out on the road is tough in the first place, but hat intersection is the most difficult part on this course. But I passed it. Just drive, Eric.

And I did. Parking was stressful as parking will always be, but after I botched backing in on the right, I was able to fix it so that my parking job was good. Good enough.

We pulled over at the end of the course. I'm done. The instructor said the one thing I needed to hear. "Good job."

I passed.

As I rode the elevator up back to All Star's office, I was a mix of exhilaration and calm and confidence and fulfillment and peace.

This is for the driving instructor who told me I was going to fail. This is for the father who gave me nothing but a negative attitude and flawed driving techniques. This is for the brother that was done giving me rides. This is for the kid whose confidence was broken. This is for me.

My 1999 Maxima sits in the driveway in anticipation. I don't get my physical license until Tuesday, plus I have to get insured, but that doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things.

I'm ready to go. I'm ready to get in a car, alone, and drive. Drive without scrutiny in my ear. Drive where I want to go, and how I want to get there. I'm ready to do this by myself.

I'm ready to grow up.

I got my driver's license.

I'm free.

He had Meth Arms.

Alright, here's the thing.

Bright Lights closed. I'm finished with road lessons. I've gone on vacation and came back.

I have some downtime.

I'm sort of at a loss for words. I don't know what to talk about. I'm grasping at straws here. I'm sure there's plenty of things in my life that could make for an interesting story. But I don't want to tell a story. I want to have a discussion. A present-tense, unedited discussion.

There's still so much I still have to do this summer. I've only read 100 pages out of the 5 pieces I have to read for AP Lit. I haven't even touched the actual work I have for AP French and Calc. As much as it irritates me that I have so much work that I have to do, my laziness inexplicably multiplies and none of it gets done. It's a vicious cycle.

My driving test is on Thursday. I was confident. I was confident. Up until my last road lesson. The instructor started off fine, relaxed even. I felt in control of this car. Comfortable. Something I hadn't felt while driving yet. But the man, the 5 foot, meth-armed, peanut-shaped-headed man progressively got more and more, I don't know... Douchey. He pointed out every little mistake I made. I understand that it's his job to prepare me for my test, but when the test is in five days, telling me that I'm going to fail it at this point is not preparing me at all. Whenever he criticized me on my driving, it made me lose focus, it made me get too wrapped up in my thoughts to really concentrate on the road underneath me. Which led to more mistakes. Which led to more criticism. This is another one of those vicious cycles I was talking about.

I can't fail my test. I start camp the week after, where I'll be driving to and from every day for three weeks. I've already driven on the course, it's not difficult. It's all comfortable speeds of 25 miles per hour, in wide lanes. I just need to feel confident in my ability again. And soon.

I'll get there.