Essay #1

 Brian Ta

Mrs. Croker

September 8, 2010

My First Taste of Freedom

I had just turned 17 and completed my third of three driver's training lessons. The only thing that kept me from my freedom was a driver's license.

I remember the day my sister and I took the day off from school in order to drive me to this momentous occasion. I could not even sleep the night prior. My nerves were really getting to me. I couldn’t stop worrying about who my test proctor would be. There have been many rumors going around the teens at my school about a tall bald younger man being the worst of the testers. I couldn't imagining failing my drivers test, mainly due to all the talk I've been giving to my friends who had to take the test twice. In the event of me failing my test I wished for it to failed by a critical error. Everyone understands that stuff just happens, so that would be a much less embarrassing route to fail by opposed to failing by over ten small errors.

During the drive to the DMV my sister was trying to give me tips on what and what not to do. We went over hand signals and even where there windshield wipers were. I felt as ready as I could possibly be.

Both of my sisters as well as my friends with licenses, all took their test at the Ventura DMV. So as I walked into the Oxnard DMV, I didn’t know what to expect. The must from the older building filled my nose. The sounds of the employees were all drowned out by the whining of impatient kids. I took my documents to the testing window. My sweaty palms handed over the necessary paperwork to the woman working at the window, after some looking over and a quick eye exam, I sat with my sister, and waited.

Not too long after, my name was called. They instructed me to drive to the testing area. There I waited, the air conditioning was my best friend for the brief moments of waiting. Momentarily, I notice a thin, older gentleman inspecting my car. Realizing he was my proctor, I was relieved. He spoke with an accent, so thick that you could almost mistake him for rude. Regardless, I was relieved to not have had the tall devil everyone at school seemed to condemn.

I've been practicing for this day for a very long time. I show him the defroster, the wipers, the turn signals. I start the car. He fondles his paper work, and we're off. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, there was a calm that took over me just a bit. Then his instructions begin.

“Pull up the the curb right here, please”

“Easy”, I said to myself.

“Turn left at this light, please.”

Damn, this isnt a protected turn!

“Switch two lanes to the left, please.”

“Make a right turn after this light, please.”

I silently question his requests in the rush of mid-day traffic; the constant “pleases” were getting irritating.

After completing all of his requests, we end up back in the DMV lot where I started the car about ten minutes prior. He examines his sheets, all I could hear was the lead of his pencils making long curvy marks. Once in a while there would be a quick short mark tossed into the mix. He hands me a copy of the paper and shows me my mistakes and tell me what all the funny marks meant. At this point, my quiet calm had become a painful anxiousness. He finished his last correction with a congratulations.

A load of pressure had been lifted off of my chest. I immediately get the urge to call my parents and friends telling them the news.

I walk into the DMV and my sister is nervously waiting for my to tell of the result. I told her with much joy that I passed. Immediately after, I call up my dad with the news. After all of the congratulations, I walk proudly to the window with excitement as they hand me my interim drivers license only to be told I couldn't even drive myself home due to the resections of a restricted license. However, I did not let that shake my joy.

After I made it home, I did something I've wanted to for 3 years; I drove myself to school. It was a little taste of independence that I will never forget. The idea of going where you wanted was such a rush at the time. I still remember the moment, going slowly over the speed bumps on the side entrance, windows down, radio loud. It is one of the best memories of high school I have.

As a celebration, I drive my friends to go get a celebratory lunch. We decide to go get some fish tacos. The conversation was non-stop. I told where I was taken to during the test, give tips to my friends, and tell them that I luckily did not receive the tall young instructor.

After school, I immediately got dressed and headed to work at Tilly's where all of my co-workers were college students. Being the only high school kid there, I was a bit embarrassed to admit my excitement in receiving my driver's license. However, the embarrassment wouldn’t compare to the fact that after every shift, I was picked up by my dad. So after closing, I felt even more proud of myself when I started the car, and drove home alone. It was a big accomplishment for me.

With such power, comes responsibility. I can say that I have witnessed this power be abused. From friends texting and driving, and making attempts to drive impaired , I was certain I would not land in that category. I would not allow myself to be classified with the people who made bad choices driving. Luckily I understood this very well.

Today, driving is still a very big thing for me. I still take it very seriously. After losing a friend in a car accident, there is no way I can look at this subject lightly. I always make an effort to be responsible when I’m behind the wheel. I also try to help others feel the same way.