If at first you don't succeed

     My dad sold the family car weeks before my 16th birthday.  I think that was an omen.  He didn't like to drive, and my mother could not, so the car was sold.
     I think he did it to prevent me from driving, or to avoid taking me driving.
     I took driver's ed in high school and did very well.  But when my 16th birthday rolled around, I had no car to take a driver's test.
     All was well .... I rode the bus and double dated.  Who am I kidding, I never really dated.  But when I did, we rode the bus.  Usually, I only had one date with a girl.  I blame it on the bus and not my stellar personality.
     When I was 17, my sister in law to be took me for my license.  She had an Olds, if I remember, and it had power brakes.
     I did a practice run, and every time I stopped everything on the seats or rear deck would  become air born. But I felt confident.  Positive.  I knew I could do this.
    In Chicago, you take the road test on a little specially designed set up.  The road is about 10 feet wide, but it has crosswalks, stop signs, curbs, the whole ball of wax.
    I got in the car, checked the mirrors, and looked all directions, then put it in drive.  As we rocketed up to 10 miles per hour, I approached a stop sign.  So I hit the brakes.
    The examiner almost went through the windshield.  It did not get any better.  Bad turns, rough stops, and a no passing grade from the examiner.
    Fast forward one year.  I still don't have a car to practice, so my brother Carl takes me out in his...no power brakes, which was fine with me.  I drive a little, getting the feel of the car.  Felt fine, confident, and ready to go.
    Head up to Elston Avenue to the DL bureau, take the written test, take the road test...but not in Carl's car.  I used a friend of the family's car, and I was not familiar with it.  And the guy would not let me drive to the DL.  But I gave it a go.
    Stop at the stop sign.  Nicely done.  Move into traffic.  Fine.  Make a left turn.  Excellent.
    Do a three point turn.
    No problem.  Pull in, back up, pull out and bump over a curb.
     "Oops," I say with a nervous laugh as the examiner makes a note.
    Time for a right turn.  Bump over another curb.
     "You know you just went over a curb," he says, as if I'm an idiot and can't tell the car just bounced eight inches in the air.
      "Well, we're both pretty damn lucky it wasn't a pedestrian," I joke.  He makes notes.
     At age 18, I didn't even try.  As a matter of fact, I did not drive a car again until my sophomore year in college.  Jackie let me drive her dad's car and even took me for the test.  But we did it in DeKalb, on a weekday when she convinced her dad to let her borrow the car and bring it to school for some reason.
     Being on a real street made all the difference.  At 21, I finally had a license.
     So, what's the fact?

I flunked my driver's license test.  Twice.