‘Rev . . . reverse,’ I said, my stutter got worse.
The driving instructor sat there, his paunch hanging a little over his trousers. A clip board in one hand, his round spectacles in the other. He reminded me of an old school teacher handing my exam papers over to me.
Not saying anymore I look behind me, and wonder what corner he wanted me to reverse. Completely missing the first, I reverse around the second corner, and he said nothing to me.
My nerves evaporate around me – I failed my test, so what good does getting nervous do. The rest of the test goes by without a hitch, and I even manage to parallel park.
When he tells me I passed the test, I actually hug the examiner. This is my seventh go, and I thought I would never be able to pass. To be able to drive, and not rely on buses was a great thing to look forward to.