255. Driving test (2/2)

Granny has been up at the cathedral and has burnt dozens of candles and asked every Saint in sight that has anything - even very remotely - to do with driving to help. I have been drawing the cards (and cheating) and my husband has been repeating like a mantra to anyone who asked about it:

'It'll be OK this time. Don't worry.'

But we are all worried. Very worried. And a little fed up too to be honest. This whole matter is getting ridiculous. For Goodness' sake it is only a driving test!

So when the door bangs and more bits of cement peel off from the old bricks and she tumbles in out of breath, I get extremely worried. I don't know what to say so I say:

'How did it go?' 

'I don't know. I really, really really can't tell. Not that good. Not that bad either. Honestly!'

As the mother - and a teacher - I unfortunately know what kind of question to ask.

'What makes you think it did not go that well? And what makes you thing it did go quite well?'

She is a little hyper but as this is her default setting I cannot read the signs.

'Come on! I'm going to tell granny everything that happened and I do not want to go over it three times. I've already told dad. And I need chocolate.'

So we cross the garden to get to Granny's and once we are sitting she starts on what she calls the 'debrief'. We cannot say that she does not take this whole thing seriously. She does. I hope she never ever wants to take flying lessons.

Then she goes on and on using forks, spoons, bananas, chocolate bars, etc to show us how she manoeuvred her vehicle around town. Forced smiles are fixed on our unexpressive faces. 

I say nothing, nor does granny but as the debrief goes on and on we both look less and less hopeful. Yet we keep smiling and laughing too because she does tell the story in a funny way and gives a very honest debrief. The whole French size bar of chocolate is rapidly disappearing. 

'So he said ... Go onto the express way! I hate that. Right. It's like the motorway! I'm not ready for that! And there was this big lorry in front of me going so slow! So I didn't know what to do. It looked so scary! I mean it was huge this lorry! ... I couldn't chase it right? So I slowed down and then did everything super-fast to compensate: indicator, check mirror, check blind spot, turn, etc, etc.'

We are nodding. Smiling. 

'And he said: Oh Mademoiselle, ce n'est pas la decision que j'aurais prise mais vous l'avez très bien fait.'

Ok. Good. Smiles almost genuine.

'Then we go back into town and there's this stupid stupid priorité à droite ... and I know it really well ... I've been driving there so many times during lessons. But then I see there is this big van coming! So I get worried. ... So I stopped! And he said: Mademoiselle, qui a la priorité ici?'

Pause for effect or does she not know the answer?

'Me!' She shouts and we jump. Grab some more chocolate.

'Me. ... I tell him me and he looks at me like I'm a little bit stupid and asks why I stoppered. So points lost here. God knows how many.'

OK. I'm thinking this is it. We'll just make positive comments and that's the matter settled. But she goes on! 

'Then we drive up the Boulevard Jean Jaurès, all the way up and I know there is a traffic light and I'm not good at traffic lights.'

And I am thinking how on earth can you be not good at traffic lights: Red and orange you stop, green you go. Why is this so difficult for my daughter? Is she colour-blind and I still don't know?

'So it's green. So I accelerate but then as as I come up it turns orange. So I jump on the breaks and they both kind of ... you know get jerked forward and I can hear the clank as the safety belts lock.'

Oh dear. I am going to faint and my mother is going to have a heart attack of there is more of this.

'And so here I am. Car stopped in time but past the white line and so I cannot see the traffic light now.'

I cannot take any more. I get up and go out into the garden. She gobbles up the rest of the chocolate and with a mouthful tells us she should not soon. Her instructor is really nice and she likes to collect rocks so they understand each other and therefore she will probably let her know very soon.

I get back to work. Granny decides to make chocolate cookies (her favourites just in case) and Muddy-Boots disappears.

Not even an hour later she clatters down the wooden steps screaming:

'I GOT IT. I GOT IT. I PASSED. I PASSED. YES. YES. YES.'

'Really?' I ask, very stupidly.

'YES! Really! I got a bonus point for that excellent action behind the 10-ton truck. And got exactly the number of points required. I'VE GOT A DRIVING LICENSE!!!!!! YES!'

She calms down a bit and adds.

'And you know what? Apparently he said that it was good to see young people using their heads when on the road.'

Off to granny's to gobble up the hot from the oven cookies. 

I sigh deeply. Yet I will wait for the official paper. Maybe Mr Inspector will realise he is making a mistake? Or is she going to be allowed to drive real cars on real roads on her own? Now that is a real worry! Maybe I should get Mr Examiner to read the post about her in bumper cars? Or not.