Fail-blog

F my life.

I failed.

I failed, not just once, but twice.

Then, in my fury, I stormed home and slammed my bedroom door. It fell off its hinges. So, now, I have a lopsided door incapable of closing, parents who are incredibly disappointed in me, a broken phone, a bicycle with no brakes and I still don’t have my driver’s licence.

Love my life, right? Wrong.

I went to VicRoads this morning for the second time in two weeks. Actually, I think I commented in my last blog how I was getting my licence in the near future, “should all go to plan”. Well, I am sorry to say that ‘all’ did not ‘go to plan’. I think it is safe to say that nothing went to ‘plan’ at all.

My first encounter with the Driving Supervisors at the esteemed Carlton office was rather unpleasant, and not only because I failed. As quite a happy-go-lucky, friendly person, upon my name being called I approached the woman with enthusiasm and said, with a big smile on my face, “Hi, how are you?”. Now, I’m no expert on social conduct, but I am pretty sure that the norm is to reply with an “I’m well thanks” or even a “Fine”, “Not bad” or “I’ve been better”. Instead I was met with a blank stare and a blatant recount of the rules for the test. “…I will direct you left or right at each intersection…You must follow all of my instructions or the test will me terminated…You are not permitted to speak in the test.”

Alright-y then. If it’s going to be that way, cool. You treat me like a dummy, I treat you like a GPS system. That’s totally fine, let’s just get this over with.

Needless to say, the experience did not improve.

My test went for a total of 37 minutes, most of which passed with barely a hiccup. In fact, I would say they consisted of some pretty damn good driving in the great scheme of things. But, as it turns out, one has to actually stop at stop signs. Who would have thought? Apparently it’s a ‘critical error’ if you ‘slow and pause but do not stop your car completely at a stop sign but other road users or pedestrians are not endangered’ (feel free to press the hyperlink for more info on that beautiful road rule). So despite the fact that my driving was ‘perfect, really’ and that I am a ‘very capable driver’, the robot was ‘sorry to say’ that I was unsuccessful on this attempt.

BUT, luckily for me, somebody had just cancelled their appointment and a test time had opened up for Thursday the 18th of March, less than two weeks away! Hoorah! I’ll show them. Then I’ll do a drive by all my friends who doubted me, they’ll be sorry. It’ll be a surprise, too, cause I won’t tell anybody I’m going for it again. Chyeah.

As the day drew nearer, I became more and more eager to just do the test and move on. Learning to drive has seriously hampered my relationship with my parents, so the sooner I don’t have to drive with them again, the better. And of course, the morning of the test began with a big row with my mother. I swear, if she ever advises me to put my hair up, roll my sleeves up, stay out of the bike lane or slow down over the speed bumps again it will be the end of me.

My experience was different this time, and it really did seem promising at the start. The man was nice, old, friendly. We commenced the test and everything was going swell. About five minutes in, the supervisor told me to turn right at the roundabout. Sure, easy. After indicating I began the turn. And then, I mounted the curb. Oh-to-the-No. Big mistake. The poor old man then turned to me and said “unfortunately…”. I told him to say no more. There was no need. We then drove carefully back to the carpark, I did the shittiest park of my life, and the supervisor got out, my mother got in, and I climbed to the passenger seat. We did not speak the entire trip home.

And then, as I said, my anger burst from its bottle and my poor bedroom door copped the flak of it.

This whole series of events has led me to a number of conclusions. The stubborn, adolescent side of me thinks the whole system is stupid and unparallel to real-life driving expectations. The completely irrational and stupid side of me thinks it’s my mum’s fault cos she’s a horrible driver anyway, why should she teach me? There’s another side of me that is thinking I’ll just follow the footsteps of a couple of friends who had failed by going to Leongatha VicRoads instead of Carlton (it’s much easier apparently). But, when it comes down to it, I am really quite afraid of failure, I’ve realised. I can’t handle it. And because I’ve failed twice, surely that just means I’m not ready to get my license yet, or that I’m just bad at life. Either way, right now, in my current state of mind, I’m thinking: fuck it, I’ll just buy a helmet, fix my bike and become one of those ‘damned cyclists’.

Driving is bad for the environment anyway.