I drove with the examiner through our sleepy Indiana town. Since we lived outside the city limits, I wasn’t familiar with the route that I’m sure 95% of my friends drove during their rite of passage. I wasn’t familiar with the side streets, or the fact that there were stop signs at the end of every blessed block. My recollection was that there was a little road construction on a particular street, and as I was careful to drive past it with caution, I missed the stop sign at the end of the zone.
He didn’t say anything until we got back to the license branch — it was then that he casually said that I’d failed and that I’d missed one stop sign.
Oh the flailing and wailing that followed. I had to wait about six weeks to take the test again, which of course, seemed to be the longest six weeks EVER.
How did your first driver’s test go, Persephoneers? What major injustice was served to you at the tender age of 16? You can tell me! Or, as always, feel free to hijack this Open Thread for your own purposes.