Chapter 75: The Examiner From Hell

Tuesday, April 19, 2005 (Continued)

I loaded my bag with what schoolwork I wanted to do tonight, then headed to the DMV. Corvallis being a small place, it didn't take long for me to jog there. It didn't seem to take any energy either, even with a backpack on. As a little experiment, I tried running at my optimal rate, and the extra weight did cause fatigue to build up, forcing me to reduce my pace significantly. Apparently there are some rational aspects to how I break the laws of physics and biochemistry.

The DMV is a bit of a madhouse, but by asking around I found Roy Smith. I was taken through to his office in the back, confirming he was a big-wig, as I'd expected.

After the introductions were completed he sat me down in his office, gave me a Knowledge Test form and told me to go for it while he did other paperwork.

Multi-choice tests are wonderfully easy for my four minds to leapfrog through, so I knocked it off very quickly. Mr. Smith looked surprised at how quickly I'd completed it.

I wasn't surprised at his surprise. I just said, "I think I prepared well."

He quickly marked it, announcing, "All correct. Here's another one. Do this one too."

#2: <Huh? Is he allowed to do that?>

#1: <We can either do it and probably get 100% again, or we can argue with him, which I give a lot less than a 100% chance of succeeding.>

So I started on it. He was watching me so I made sure I always paused before answering each question, to pretend to read it even though for most of them one or other of my eyeballs had already skipped ahead to read it and a mind had already worked out the answer.

Toward the end of my test he got a phone call, and I heard him say, "Ask him to wait there." After he hung up he said, "Your father is waiting out front. We'll finish in here first."

I completed the test then gave it to him.

He suspiciously asked, "How can you answer the questions so fast?"

I gave my prepared answer, "I can read very quickly and I'm highly intelligent so I don't have to think about the answers. You might've heard that it's my intelligence that's the reason I'm being allowed to try for my license early."

He didn't respond to that, and just got on with marking my second test. He declared, with a decided lack of enthusiasm, "Also all correct."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm suspicious about the way you answered those tests." He picked up a copy of the Oregon Driver Manual, and started asking a series of verbal questions, which got increasingly difficult.

He worked his way up to, "What's the stopping distance when braking a car from 55 mph?"

There was a graphic in the Manual that showed these distances. I remembered the answer, so that was fine. I also remembered that immediately under the graphic's heading there was a note saying, "You will not be tested on distances in this table." I was tempted to quote that note as part of my answer, but I decided not to aggravate him further. So I just answered, "The Manual gives it as 275 feet on Dry, Clean, Level Asphalt."

He'd asked me about twenty verbal questions, the stopping distance one being the last. After that he said, "We'll do your Driving Test now. Let's go meet your father.

I grabbed my bag and followed him. Sweating, if not physically then certainly mentally. This guy was tough! I knew it certainly wasn't the DMV's standard way of testing applicants, and I'd had no idea they were allowed to be so vicious.

He got me to locate Dad, and we went out to the parking lot. Mr. Smith (or as I had started thinking of him as, Mr. Mean-Bastard-Who-Wants-To-Fail-Me Smith), asked, "Is this the vehicle you'll be doing your test in?" Indicating Dad's car. I nodded.

He walked around it, inspecting it carefully. I had no doubt he was looking for a reason to fail me because the vehicle was substandard in some way. When he got back around to us he seemed annoyed not to find anything wrong with it. He demanded, "Keys please," putting out his hand. Dad passed them to Mr. MBWWTFM Smith, who passed them to me, stating, "Your test starts now."

#1: <What the hell does that mean? We're not even in the car yet.>

#2: <I have no idea, but whatever we do, let's do it carefully.>

We looked around the parking lot, just in case there was something to be wary of, but nothing seemed untoward. I moved toward the car, saying, "I'll just put my bag in the trunk."

I'd just said it so he knew what I was doing, never expecting his response. He paused for a second, then said, "No. Give it to your father to hold until we get back."

I rolled my eyes at Dad as I handed it over. I didn't dare say a word.

Dad watched as I walked to the car, looked carefully around to make sure the coast was clear, then opened the door and got in. I was totally paranoid and didn't dare put the key in the ignition until everything was perfect. I adjusted the seats, mirrors, put on my seatbelt, etc., until everything seemed as perfect as I could make it. Mr. Smith had been busy filling out the top of his clipboard mounted form. I was ready and he was still writing.

He hadn't put his seatbelt on. Given a choice between his having supreme confidence in my driving abilities, or he was hoping to fail me, I assumed the latter. I said, "I am ready to start the car but your seatbelt is not on. I will wait until you are ready."

He stopped writing and put it on, then stated, "When you are ready proceed out of the driveway and turn left. Go straight until I tell you otherwise."

So started the "Driving Test From Hell".

I several times changed my opinion of Mr. Smith's middle names, always in a downward direction. He knew the worst possible place in town to do a three-point turn because it was narrow and had low bollards on the curbs that were just high enough to have damaged Dad's car had I misjudged their distance after they were obscured by the car's front or back when it got close to them. He knew the steepest hill to do a hill-start on, etc. The hill-start was particularly bastardish, so I'll describe it. He got me to park by the curb, then said, "Get out of the vehicle, move to the rear and wait for me there."

How should you get out of a car? Are there rules for what sequence each step should be done it (e.g., take off the seatbelt before checking for other traffic, or vice versa). There was nothing in the Driver Manual about this. I thought through everything as carefully as I could, and did what I thought was right. Once I was standing behind the car, he got out and came back to me.

"Give me your watch please?"

I took it off and gave it to him. If he wanted it as a bribe he wasn't getting much, as it was a cheap thing.

He checked for traffic then bent down and placed it on the ground immediately behind the left rear wheel. He saw that I was watching, and said, "We'll get back in the car now and you'll do a hill-start. Drive ten yards forward then stop." Bastard!

Once in the car I had a problem: Did I simply drive forward ten yards then stop, or did I pull out with indicators flashing, drive five yards, then indicate that I was going to park and do so in another five yards? I wanted to ask him, but somehow I felt it was unlikely he'd be so helpful as to tell me, and would probably penalize me for asking. I found a loophole. After going through all the careful startup procedure again, I said, "I will do exactly as you requested, 'Drive forward ten yards and stop.' I won't pull out toward the center of the street, drive forward, then park in just ten yards, because you didn't tell me to do that."

I immediately proceeded to do as he'd said. The fate of my watch didn't worry me much. It was a crap watch and I knew I could do a hill-start without the car rolling back, as that was just a matter of coordination. I was much more concerned about his attitude than this specific part of the test. At the ten yard mark, as best I could judge it, I stopped. That's all I did. He'd said to stop, so I stopped and awaited further instructions.

I waited.

He waited.

I waited.

"Go and get your watch."

I carefully repeated my best idea of the correct "Getting Out Of The Car When A Bastard Of An Examiner Is Eager to Fail You" procedure. I retrieved my unbroken watch, moved to the sidewalk, put my watch on, and then cautiously got back into the car.

While attaching my seatbelt I noticed that his was off, and I asked him to put it back on. Bastard!

He told me where to drive to next, requiring a less traumatic hill-start for us to get going again.

The test continued, and continued, and continued - seemingly without end. There was a clock on the dashboard and we reached the time when the school's driver would be picking up the girls. I picked a clear moment to say, "May I pull off the street and stop to ask you a question please? It's not about this test."

"You may."

Once I had parked extremely carefully, I said, "My school provides my sisters and me with a driver daily, to drive us back and forth to school. I had incorrectly told him that my test would be over by now, and that I would have texted my sister to let him know whether he had to come to our house tomorrow morning. He will be driving them home now. As this test will take longer, may I please text my sister and ask her to get his phone number so I can contact him later? I am asking this entirely for his consideration, not for myself in any way." I felt I was on thin ice, and was treading as carefully as I knew how.

"You may." That was surprisingly considerate of the bastard. I created a quick message, adding "Do not call or text me back." As I sent it I realized that I'd been foolish to leave my cellphone on thus far, as I sure didn't want to answer any calls while I was on this test, so to play doubly safe I turned it off. The test resumed.

At one point we were driving behind another car which was a little slow. Mr. Smith commanded, "Pass him."

I almost did so, until I realized that the yellow lines in the middle of the road would suggest otherwise. I politely informed Mr. %#$@^# Smith of this fact.

He started asking me more verbal Knowledge questions while we were driving. Also questions like, "Quick, list every driving hazard you can see now."

How can you possibly get that right? Is a manhole cover twenty yards ahead of you a hazard or not? What about someone washing their car in their driveway that we'd just this second passed? Could the trees along the street suddenly fall onto it? Good grief! Fortunately with my four minds I could fire off potential hazards as fast as I could speak. "If in doubt, call it out" was my motto.

He did things like tell me, "Take the next two right hand turns", the second of which was a one-way street going the wrong way, so I took the right hander after that. He sat there saying nothing the whole time. You get the idea. (I'll tell you anyway: he was a fucking bastard!)

Just before 4pm he said, "Head back to the DMV."

I knew where I was so navigated back there myself. I suddenly remembered Dad, and felt horribly guilty about all the time he was missing off work. Bastard! (Smith, obviously, not Dad.)

When we pulled into the parking lot, Dad was outside looking for us. He looked very relieved to spot us.

Imagine my relief when I finally got to park and turn the engine off! My legs were wobbly when I got out of the car.

Smith said, "Follow me," as he led the way back inside the DMV.

We walked past Dad, so I gave him his keys back and acted wiping sweat off my brow. I didn't dare tell Dad anything because I didn't want the bastard to hear me calling him a bastard.

I asked Smith's back, "May my father come with us?"

"Yes," he said without breaking step or looking back.

Dad had heard, so he followed me following Smith.

Smith led us back to his office again and sat us down. I didn't have a clue whether I'd passed or not. For all I knew Smith had decided to fail me before I walked in the front door. It sure felt that way to me.

Without smiling he said, "You have passed your tests. I am under pressure to give you an unrestricted license but I would have refused to do so had you done ANYTHING wrong. Your written and verbal answers were 100% and your driving was passable, so I will issue it. I will also keep an eye on your record, and if there are any violations, I'll yank it. Got it?"

"Yes sir. May my father go? He's late for getting back to work."

"Yes. It's just form filling from here."

Dad said, "I'll stay a few more minutes, just to make sure."

It didn't take long to do the paperwork, mainly because Smith unashamedly jumped the necessary lines, such as to get my photograph.

Apart from a few more threats, which were unnecessary - I think I'll be scared of Smith to my dying day - the only noteworthy point was when Smith explained, "There's no such thing as an unrestricted license as such in Oregon. For someone under eighteen years, it is indicated simply by the license's issuing date being at least a year earlier. For me to make your license unrestricted I either have to change your birthday so that you are over eighteen, which I won't be doing, or backdate the date of issue of your license, which is what I will do. I will backdate it one year and one day, so you can drive unrestricted immediately. Your license will have to be renewed one year earlier than it would otherwise, but that's a price you'll have to pay." [[Just as #3 and #4's previous dimension was unusual for letting 15-year olds get their license, I later learned that this dimension was unusual for not having a explicit indication of license being restricted or unrestricted. There are some strangely inexplicably random variations in some dimensions.]]

There was no way I was going to argue with him. Also, I didn't know what having a license renewed meant as it hadn't been mentioned in the Driver Manual, but I wasn't going to ask him in case it gave him reason to fail me. Thank God it hadn't been one of his verbal questions! I was hoping to escape this place without saying another word.

"If you are pulled over and have your license examined, the policeman will be suspicious of the dates and your trip might be delayed abnormally. There's nothing I can do about that, other than suggest that once you're eighteen you get a new license issued."

I few minutes later I was walking through the doors of the DMV, clutching my HARD-earned license in my hands. Smith hadn't smiled once, not even when he handed it over and we thanked him. I vowed NEVER to see him again; not on my eighteenth birthday or any other day!

As soon as the door closed behind us, I gave a huge sigh of relief, then told Dad, "That was the exam from HELL! That bastard tried his damnedest to fail me. He tried to trick me into turning the wrong way into a one-way street, to illegally pass across solid yellow lines. He even took my watch off and placed it just behind the rear wheel before making me do a hill-start. If I'd rolled back even one inch my watch would have been history. He peppered me with verbal questions, made me do two different Knowledge tests. Christ! What a bastard!"

"You've got it now. If you were older this would be perfect time to have a whiskey, but that's a few years away even for you. I'll call work to see if they want me to bother coming back."

I did similarly, turning on my cellphone. No messages, good. I dithered over whether to call Julia or Carol first. I realized they were together, but whose phone should I call? I chickened out and called their landline, figuring I might need to talk with Prof.

Vanessa answered and I told her I had my license now but it'd been a very long, tough exam. I asked to talk with whichever girl was closest. Julia came to the phone. I repeated that I had it, and that I'd give her the gory details of the Examiner from Hell later to save me having to repeat it several times. I asked how her afternoon had been at school, abuse-wise.

She answered, "It was great! There was a lot of it. I had several protectors so no trouble in that way, but there were heaps of catcalls and rude comments so you'll be able to repeat your speech tomorrow, hopefully several times. Isn't that great?"

"Ahh, if you say so. I'd rather not, but if you think I should?" I asked hopeful of one answer but expecting the other.

"Not only should you, you MUST. It's a fantastic speech. Carol and Mom were rolling on the floor. Well, Carol was. It's absolutely perfect."

"Okay. How was Carol's afternoon?"

"You can ask her yourself in a minute, but great. She had a fun day. Where are you now?"

I had to put her on hold as Dad came back, "My boss said I might as well go home. He's okay, so don't worry about my being delayed. He knows you were getting a special license and he understands it was more time-consuming than normal. Do you want me to drop you at home or Julia's?"

"Home, please."

"Do you want to drive?" Dad could see how shattered I was, so he was joking.

"Ha-ha! I need time to recover, and the last thing I need is for that bastard to see me make a tiny mistake and cancel my license."

I got into the passenger's side and resumed my conversation with Julia, "I'm back, sorry about that. I'm just leaving the DMV."

"I'll put Carol on quickly then, and you can call us later from home."

My conversation with Carol was a virtual repeat of the one I'd had with Julia, except that she'd enjoyed her entire day, morning and afternoon. She'd gotten to use three of the put-downs Julia had her rehearse, including using one against her most hated foe. Apparently it'd been very effective, which probably meant that I didn't have to kill him, so that was good. Carol also had the phone number for our driver.

"Thanks, sweetie. Can you give it to me now so I can call him when I get home?"

Carol recited it. I was about to hang up when Carol delayed me by telling me how thrilled she was at my speech. Both at the depths of love I'd expressed, and at how the speech's dishonesty would make her coming out trick work better. I wasn't sure how she could praise the one speech for both of those reasons, but Carol had no problem doing so. She's a female, so logical consistency isn't one of her concerns.

She wished that people in her classes would start verbally abusing her so I could come down and she could hear me make the speech first hand. Female logic at its finest: wishing to be verbally abused so I would go to her class to stop it.

On that impressive note we ended the call. I very much enjoyed the emotional boost from leaving the DMV behind me. It felt like a large weight coming off me.

It didn't take long to get home. I was already feeling much better but still fairly shattered. ("Fairly shattered" sounds as logical as "a little bit pregnant", but in sympathy for how I felt at the time, I'm too shattered to make the effort to get it right.)

The news of my passing had already spread to the Anderson household, so Donna rushed out to congratulate me. After a few seconds she asked, "How come you're not excited?"

"Because I'm shattered. Mentally and emotionally shattered. The examiner I had was a complete and utter bastard. He was mean, nasty, tricky, unsmiling, and he tried very, very hard to make me fail. He deliberately tried to get me to break the law, pass cars illegally, turn down a one-way street the wrong way, and that sort of thing. He made me do double the number of written tests I should have had to, asked me verbal questions when they don't normally. He even asked a question about something the Driver Manual specifically said wouldn't be examined. I was damned lucky that I'd memorized everything in the book. I had to be ULTRA careful EVERY second, and the whole time I had no idea whether I'd already failed or not. He didn't smile once. I don't think he knows how. It was like the worst teacher you've ever had, but ten times worse. Thank God it's over."

Donna offered, "Would you like a massage? I'm good at those. I've heard people say they're good when they're stressed."

That was a very appealing idea. "Seriously? A proper massage?"

"I'm pretty good, people at the club say. We massage each other between races. Usually just the legs, but if we've got time we sometimes give each other bigger ones."

I nearly opened my mouth to ask her, "Is this a trick to get me to strip?", but I was too tired to care and the idea of a massage was very appealing. Instead I said, "I'll bring my bedspread and lie down on the living room floor. How does that sound?"

"Fine. I'm used to doing it on the grass so that'll be easier than normal. You should strip as much as you want. The more you take off the better the massage will be."

"I thought you'd mention that at some stage. I might leave my shorts on, if you don't mind."

"I mind, but that's still pretty good."

I was thinking about stripping, when I realized I almost certainly needed a shower. I must have sweated from all the nervous tension. I told Donna I'd shower first then call her when I was ready after that. Which reminded me to call Julia again.