I Passed!

I failed.

Huh?

I passed!

I got my motorcycle licence today, but man it was a confusing sort of experience, courtesy of the DMV and a weird little stipulation for the licence which stated that if you haven’t renewed your regular drivers licence within the last year, you also have to take the written test for a car.

What?

No!

I did not know that.

Fuck.

I did not study that booklet.

I got to the DMV with plenty of time to spare and re-read a few things that I figured were going to be on the exam.  I waited patiently for my appointment time to be hollered out by the security cop on premise.

And whoa, there needs to be security cops roving about, there was some serious feelings happening, a few of them were my own by the end of the two hours I was there, a man and a clerk hollering at each other right in front of me, a nosy busybody woman who kept trying to engage with me, until I moved, more than one person getting yelled at in the test area to turn off their phone, not talk, and put away the booklet.

I actually watched one woman get booted from taking the exam as she was consulting her phone, whether or not she was looking for test answers I don’t know, in fact, I don’t think she was.

She was doing what everyone else in line wanted to be doing, checking their phone, because the line for the test was super long.

Not to take it.

Not to take the photograph either.

But to have the test corrected.

I get a head of myself here, just a bit.

Let’s reel back to the sweet gentleman who was helping me, expediting everything really quite quickly, I had hopes of not only getting out in time for work, but getting there maybe even a half hour or so earlier than I had told my employers.

But no, those hopes, dashed.

Before said dashing of hopes I was able to pay all my fees–$33 for the licence itself then another $169 for the registration and taxes on the scooter–I got the sticker, I am the registered owner of a 1965 Vespa, it’s all mine, the title is being transferred from my friend to me and I have the receipt all tucked away in the scooter’s little side compartment should I be stopped before I get the real one in the mail.

First thing I did when I got back to the house was slap that sticker on the license plate of my scooter.

My scooter.

Oh my God.

I have a scooter.

It’s not just some fantasy imagination in my brain, this is all really happening.

The motorcycle safety course, the putting the deposit on it, all of it has felt unreal, surreal, fantasy like, the reality is not reality yet.

But it’s getting there.

After I got the sticker I was routed to take a photograph.

WORST photo ever.

I mean bad, bad, bad, how did I get a double chin in this photo?

How?

I was horrified.

But ultimately, I don’t care.

I know what I look like and it ain’t that bad awful photo on my licence.

No.

I cringed when I got the picture back, but I carried all my paperwork and my receipts and my form from the safety course over to the next contestant on the Price is Right.

Er.

I mean.

The next window of harried DMV worker who really could give a fuck.

She was slow, but had a number of tasks that she was doing, including monitoring the test area–she was the one who kicked the girl out of line for using her phone (she had to turn over all paperwork and was told that she couldn’t come back and take the test for six weeks as a penalty. Damn.) as well as processing the test paperwork and correcting the test.

There were two lines just for her.

And she took her time with it.

Oh yes she did.

When I got to the front of the first line she flipped through my paperwork and handed me the tests I had to take.

I was still miffed to have to take them both, but I shut up about it.

I got two wrong on the motorcycle test.

And four wrong on the automobile test.

One too many.

Fuck me.

I of course did not find this out right away.

I had to wait 45 minutes in the test correcting line to find that out.

By the time I finally got to the front of the line it was almost noon, ie, when I was supposed to be at work and I had not been able to take out my phone and send off a text to let the families know I was still at the DMV.

I did not want to get kicked out for “cheating” with my phone.

I was super upset to find out that I had to retake the test.

At first I was just disconcerted.

She handed me back the automobile test and asked me to answer four more questions on the test.

I apparently did not get them right.

Then she said I could take the test again right then and there, but I would have to get back in line.

I could study over the tests with the correct answers and get another test (they have three different versions of it) and try again.

Should I not answer that one within the limits I would have to have a four-week wait to retake, or something like that, I was too mad to hear exactly what she was saying, it also was made clear, I would have to make an appointment to retake the test on another day, versus just staying put.

But I couldn’t stay put.

I had to go to work.

I was in tears and pissed and it was raining and I texted the families and said I was on my way and on my way I went.

Wet and mad as a doused cat.

Not exactly the best way to show up to work.

I eventually got myself together.

Eating a hot bowl of homemade soup for lunch really helped.

Then I realized I did not have the booklet for the automobile test and I would want it to go back and take the test.

Ugh.

Then in rapid succession things happened.

Fell into place and within a half hour of leaving the house with the boys tucked up into the stroller in rain jackets, I had passed the written for the automobile test at the DMV.

Huh?

The heavens parted, the sun came out, I wheeled the stroller over to Fell Street, the baby fell asleep on the way, I got to the office, grabbed the booklet and saw that there was no line.

NO LINE!

There was also a new woman at the desk for the tests.

I walked over and took out my paperwork and asked and she said, go to it, park the stroller next to you and keep them quiet, she handed me a new test and shooed me off.

A snack cracker for the older boy, confirmation the baby was still asleep, and voila, in five minutes I re-took the test, 100% and was out the door with my paper receipt saying I had passed and my new license with my motorcycle upgrade and horrible photo will be arriving in the mail in the next seven to ten days.

Holy crow.

I was amazed.

Did that just happen?

It did.

I have the paperwork to prove it.

And I took my scooter out for her inaugural run in the park with my friend.

I have a bit of practising to do before I am able to run it around town–it’s not an automatic–and I need to get used to using the clutch, but I am on my way.

Scooter Town USA.

Here I come.

I am still in awe that I actually was able to go back, re-take the test, get 100% and be out the doors of the DMV a half hour after I left the house in Cole Valley pushing a double stroller with two little boys in it.

But I am not going to question it anymore.

It really happened.

I have my license.

It’s on.