WSJ: NASCAR, Once a Cultural Icon, Hits the Skids

We were having this discussion last Sunday with several friends. They think the state passing a law that prevents drivers younger than 18 from having more than one unrelated passenger has curbed the teens' desire to rush out and start driving. The days of piling three or five of your friends in the car and driving around his now illegal.

 

I could see that. Wouldn't have stopped me, though. Alone or with a co-pilot (if only one), my ass was going on the road.

 

I had a bit of an odd time transitioning into driving. Got my permit soon after turning 15 and was eager to get my license ASAP. But with both my parents and my drivers ed teacher, learning to drive was extremely stressful, as it felt like they jumped my shit over every little thing, real and imagined. I actually failed my driving test 2-3 times at 16 and wound up losing interest in getting my license or even practicing after a while. This went on for a little over a year.

Finally one day over Christmas break the rest of the family was out of the house and would be for hours. Something compelled me to take the car out just to see if I could do it by myself without someone barking in my ear the whole time. So I drove 20 minutes down the freeway to the next county, turned around and went back into my hometown, ran into some friends at Subway when I stopped for lunch (I was terrified they would rat me out for driving solo on just a permit, but they probably assumed I had a license already) and went home, taking care to put the car back in the driveway just so.

It was totally out of character for me then, the neurotic rule-following kid who lived in fear of ever being in trouble. But it was the best thing that could have happened. Got my license before the next semester started and kept the roads hot every day until I left for college. It's when I truly grew up.

 

I'm only going to admit this here and never to another human being ever again:

A couple years ago I moved to a new state. While getting my new license at the BMV I was informed I'd need to take a computerized test to be issued a license in the new state. I rolled my eyes and told the woman at the desk I'd take it right away. No, I did not need to look at the driver's manual of this state. A handful of questions about maneuvering around farming equipment and identifying road sign shapes without the aide of numbers or letters and suddenly I'm in the deep end of a pool I thought was going to be up to my knees. I failed it. And the computerized test stops you once you've reached the number of incorrect questions to trigger that failure before you get to the end just to rub in that fact. When the red lettering reached the screen, it may as well have said I had a small, ineffective dick. That's how it felt when it told me I failed a test everyone on earth passes.

I sheepishly went back to the woman at the service desk, who I refused to look in the eyes, and asked for a driver's manual. I read it and went back the next day and passed. My wife does not know this. (She does know about my small, ineffective dick, though.) Only me and that woman at the BMV know about the test. It's our secret.

 

Something close to that happened to me in my sportswriting days. I'd moved to another state and remembered way the hell late (like six months) that I needed to renew/transfer my license. Went down (hung over) and was told I needed to take the test. Back then, it was sort of a mechanical device ... you pressed a given colored button to correspond with your answer. I think I was told you could miss four out of 20. I missed the first three and started to sweat. Didn't miss any more, but I was nervous.

Several years (and two careers) later, when I knew I'd have to take the test, I got me a damn driver's manual.

 

Howling laughing.

When I moved back to Alabama a little over a decade ago it took me three or four tries to get a license. I don't mean tests, just to get a license. Then as now the citizens don't want to pay no taxes for nothin', so the lines can literally stretch out the door, and you may or may not get served that day. On my final try, I arrived at the state troopers' post shortly before 8 am and got finished around noon. And I only had to pass a vision test, hand over my Georgia license and write a check.

 

Hope you were able to roll the mileage back on the odometer.

 

Minus the shame, I had the same thing happen to me when I moved to Mississippi. They make you pass the written test before they'll transfer your license. I forget how many questions it was and how many you could miss, but there were enough state-specific items about things like insurance limits that I missed a few too many. Had to come back the next week and take it again. At least they let me keep my old license in the meantime.
If I had to take that same test now, at the drop of a hat, I'd probably still fail it. There was some weird stuff in there.

 

This would have shot a hole in about 50 percent of my high school socialization.

 

We'd regularly put two guys and three girls in a 1968 VW Bug or a buddy's MG and drive around for hours on the weekend. Then somebody bought an Army surplus deuce and a half, so 20 of us could go riding around together.