Hell's Driving Exam

I was just over at http://thetotallytransparentparty.blogspot.com/ reading her latest and it made me think about taking my driver's test when I was 16.

I grew up in a town with a population of 1,920 people. Not exactly a metropolis. We did not even have one single, solitary stoplight. (17 years later, they have managed to get one, but just the one). Anyway, we didn't even have a Department of Motor Vehicles, so I had to go elsewhere to test.
I turned 16 on a Friday, which I initially thought was going to be great because I'd go get my license and then I'd be able to cruise around all weekend (after all, I'd started driving on the farm when I was 6 and had driven all over the county by the time I'd turned 16. I mean to say, what could POSSIBLY go wrong?). Well, let me just tell you...
First, I woke up with a cold sore which caused me to have a fat lip. That was going to look good in the picture and god knows a 16 year old girl could have her entire life come to a halt if her drivers licence picture doesn't look good. Eventually I stopped having a fit and started trying to disguise it with make-up.
Next, I found out that the only place in the area where you could take your exam on a Friday was Springfield, which was about 25 miles away and the 3rd largest city in my state. Okay, YOU are probably thinking what I SHOULD have been thinking...grew up in a town with no stoplight, taking test in 3rd largest city in the state...maybe not the swiftest idea, right? But, I dragged my mother up there in my dad's little pick-up truck, insistent that I get my license that day so that I could cruise with my friends all weekend.
Naturally, they make you take your written test first and I passed that with a 95%. Great, huh? Then the examiner followed me out to my dad's truck and began his inspection of the vehicle and...no horn. "You can't take the driving part of the test if your horn doesn't work," said he. "WHAT? Whine, bitch, moan, whine, whine, whine, beg," said I. He was not tempted to break the rules, even with all the whining. In fact, I'm quite certain that he had heard it all before. SO, back to my hometown to get our other truck and then repeat trip to DMV.
Returned in our other pick-up. Examiner guy comes back out and...no left blinker. At this point, I was nothing less than completely distraught. I mean, how many times could I expect my mother to cart me back and forth, 50 miles round trip, just because I could not POSSIBLY wait until Monday to get this coveted license-thingy?! That day she was a saint. She drove me back home and called her best friend to see if I could borrow her pick-up. (Can you tell I grew up in a farming community? We all drove trucks).
One last trip back Springfield, vehicle passed inspection and... nearing the end of my driving exam, I ran a red light (remember those foreign things we did not have in my town?) and almost hit a cop car. Needless to say, after all of that, I flunked SPECTACULARLY... What else was there to do but go clothes shopping to make myself feel better? It did work a little.

After a weekend of sensational sulking, I went to the town just West of ours and passed my driving exam. To finish off one of the biggest "traveshamockeries" of my illustrious career so far, I managed to completely botch my picture anyway. The photographer at the DMV said, "Ready?" I said, "huh?" And for the next several years, HUH?, is exactly what you would have thought had you seen that picture. I couldn't even pull it out of my purse like the rest of my friends and triumphantly squeal, "Like, dude! Check it out! I got my license!"