Not Quite the Golden Fleece, But . . .

tl:dr - our daughter got her driver's license. It was an adventure, though.

Tuesday, July 11th 

 - 6:54am -  The morning starts off with the discovery of a teeny weeny problem. In preparation for The Girl's driving test, I had gathered the required documents needed to fulfill this quest the night before. Among other stuff there was proof of residency, her social security card, and the envelope containing her birth certificate. Now I sat here at a few minutes before 7am, with her test scheduled for 9:20am, I doublechecked the contents of the latter. There was indeed a birth certificate inside . . . a photocopy of one. Not an official copy. This was kept in a lockbox. Where the hell could it have g . . . oh, right. The Girl had stumbled into an opportunity to visit Europe as an exchange student, a program resurrected after being shuttered during the Covid years, which required us to immediately scramble to obtain her a passport that would get here in time. The woman at the post office could not have been anymore helpful, right down to giving us a copy of her birth certificate, since the original had to travel with the paperwork and would be returned to us later. Whatever. What else would she need a birth certificate for in the meantime?

Yeahhhhhhhhh . . .

 - 9:04am - The Girl was predictably stoic when I broke the news that she might not be able to test today, commenting that she has plenty of friends who already have their licenses for rides as well as me, always at her beck and call. Have you met The Girl? She is a peerless ball-buster who wields sass like a scorpion does its tail. She is also utterly charming, something I'm hoping she can put to good use today. How charming? Not only is she going on two separate vacations with the families of her friends, but the parents of another of her friends agreed to board the return exchange student so she could go on the trip (we don't have a private room for one in our wee house, which is a requirement). No, wait, sorry, they agreed to take in TWO exchange students, and their daughter isn't even going on the trip? Turns out that our town is a highly prized destination for exchange students, given the proximity to New York City. 

I've gotten sidetracked. This is about driving test chaos. I apologize.

 - 9:18am - We're at the Lodi DMV/test site and there's a moment of panic when I can't find the valid registration for our 2005 Accord hybrid (which no longer hybrids, but that's a story for a different day). It's also due for inspection by the end of the month and is iffy for passing due to the check engine light, but it's the vehicle we have to use because the Prius doesn't have an emergency brake that the tester can reach from the passenger side seat. The panic vanishes as I locate the registration but comes back with a vengeance as I determine there is absolutely no copy of the insurance card in the glove box. Moments later I manage to remember that I have it on my phone (derp) and call it up just as our tester approaches. 

The Girl, meanwhile, has been completely placid and calm. I *know* she's nervous - she has to be - but her expression is one of someone waiting in line at a market. The tester checks my license and the recently gathered car info before I exit the car and go to the waiting area, which contains two fully occupied benches and possibly all of the remaining smokers in Bergen County. 

I can see the two of them talking, passing documents back and forth, but as a couple of minutes go by and they don't head out onto the course my heart starts to sink. They wave me over soon after and, sure enough, the copy of the birth certificate is not acceptable. I'm muttering at myself when he suddenly says, 'But.'

Not always a glorious word, but this time it has potential. Turns out he had the same problem with his own kid a few weeks ago and they solved it by running over to the county seat in Hackensack - one town away - and getting a new birth certificate. Took five minutes, he said. Scribbling on her form, he tells us if we can get back by 11:30am she'll still be able to test today, as opposed to trying to make a new appointment (they are booked out for months - we made this reservation in late January). With hurried thanks, I get behind the wheel and we zoom off to Hackensack aka Salvation Land.

 - 9:34am - The tester had told me he got the certificate 'in the building next to the court,' which is a bit of a problem in Hackensack as there's both a county and a municipal courthouse. I have The Girl look up 'where to get birth certificate in Hackensack' as we drive past the county one. It's taking a bit to get an answer so I pull off the main street onto a side street. Her search pulls up an answer and a map . . . which points to the building fifteen feet behind us. Yeah, baby. We find the health department, fill out the form, and hand it in. Everything's coming up Milhouse!

 - 9:50am - Maybe not. It takes the person in the health department a good ten minutes to realize that our form indicates that The Girl was born in Ridgewood, which is where we need to go to get her birth certificate. It's the next town over from where we live. Sigh. Into the Accord and off we go.

 - 10:02am - We pull up outside the Ridgewood town hall. Those of you familiar with the area might be thinking of asking me, "Say, Kit, that's a really quick time to get from downtown Hackensack to Ridgewood, especially on a Tuesday morning." If you were to do so I would likely have evasive eyes as I mentioned 'The Jersey Slide' and 'tactical usage of breakdown lanes' as explanation, so maybe don't ask. We endure the world's slowest elevator as it takes us to the 5th floor, where the speedy retrieval of a new birth certificate will be exposed as a myth . . . yet five minutes and $25 finds us galumphing down the stairs and jumping back in the car, opting for back roads as Route 17 south had been a parking lot as we zoomed by heading northbound. Victory is in sight. Well, metaphorically. We still have to get back to Lodi

 - 10:33am - We're back in line at Lodi, proper paperwork in hand. The Girl is a little fidgety, finally showing some nerves, and with a start I realize that soon I'm going to lose something that was kind of awesome. Sure, I've spent the past couple of years ferrying her around to the gym, work, her friends' houses, etc., but it's been a radio-off, let's-chat sort of situation. On our Great Southern Tour of Colleges in States I Wish She Wouldn't Attend School In we drove for almost three days straight, and it was insanely enjoyable. I *like* my kid, sass and all, and once she gets her license that's time together that's going to vanish. Bittersweet indeed, but like Vince Vaughn said in Swingers, 'They grows up and they grows up and they grows up.' I'm excited for her as I exit the car (again) and this time, they take off a few minutes later. 

 - 10:38am - The car is stopped on the course and I'm gnawing on fingernails. The Girl had no problem with parallel parking, whipping the car into the space on her first try (they get three tries now, WTF). Could it have been so easy for her because I had her practicing in a space that was only twenty-four feet long as opposed to the thirty-foot one on the test, without her knowing it? Mayyyyybe . . .

Anyway, she started making a k-turn and stopped in the middle of it, likely due to the cones from the parallel parking space being where she'd back up if she cut her wheels the way one normally does in this situation. After a good minute or so she backed straight up instead and finished the turn without incident. As I watched she negotiated the rest of the challenges with no apparent issues, but when they got near the end they stopped again, this time for another minute or two. Finally he popped out of the car, giving me a brief wave as he passed by. I walked toward the car as The Girl pouted and used her finger to mimic a tear rolling down her cheek . . . but she's a terrible liar. After she parked the car we hugged and headed into the building to get her license. I asked her what the delays were.
     
     - "Oh, we were talking. He's got three rescue dogs like we do, but all of his are pit bulls."

Championship level schmoozer, this one. Hopefully we'd make it home in time for lunch.

(spoiler: we did not make it home in time for lunch) 

 - 11:13am - "You can't be in here."

This is directed at me, as I'm sitting in a tiny vestibule trying to escape the 90+ degree heat. It's a sunny, cloudless day and the humidity is in the 'wet wool blanket' range, and the air conditioning offered in here is adequate at best, but better than nothing. However, the building is for employees and those getting their licenses only, so back out into the heat I go. I'm both hungry and thirsty, and an amble around the property (there are several other buildings on site, none of which I'm allowed in) reveals that there's nobody selling any type of refreshments I can see - not even a grease truck, the presence of at least one was something I thought was New Jersey law. Expanding the radius of my search arc, I discover that the surrounding area is a mix of industrial and residential, severely lacking anything resembling a deli, convenience store, or even a Dunkin Donuts. I decide to head back before I pull another Sun Beats Down card (one for the gamers!) and climb into the oven that is the Accord. With no other option I fire it up and turn on the AC, grimacing as I notice that all of the running around this morning did a number on our gas supply. I text The Girl for an update. 

     - I'm #47
     - What number are they on?
     - #42
     - That's not too bad
     - It was #40 when I came in

Oh.

 - 12:17pm - I'm sweltering because I've had the car off for a while, hoping The Girl gets taken care of soon. As if she's listening, I get a text:

     - I was at the window and the printer broke while it was printing my stuff
     - What does that mean?
     - It means the printer is broken

I pause and take a deep breath before responding.

     - What does that mean for you?
     - Unknown. There's a lot of muttering and chaos.
     - Can I go get gas before it's resolved?
     - Almost certainly

Okay. I negotiate my way to downtown Lodi, which is heavily developed and will surely have numerous gas stations to choose from. Downtown Lodi does not, indeed, have numerous gas stations to choose from, having instead opted to go with none. Because of my thirty years in the purgatory that was the family business I know of places not too much farther away, and I manage to gas up before I get the Angry Yellow Light of WTF are You Even Doing. I even stop to get something to drink, but am delayed because the cash registers aren't functioning in the 7/11. Rough seas, indeed.

 - 1:27pm - I squeak a little as the passenger side door opens unexpectedly. The Girl has come from a different building, as replacing the printer proved too Herculean a task and instead the license seekers were shuffled elsewhere. Our family now has three drivers instead of two (and as soon as I can get to my computer we'll be able to celebrate Instant Doubling of Your Auto Insurance Premium Day) and I prepare to pass the baton, offering her the keys.

     - "No, you can drive. It's not as exciting now that I'm, you know, a legal driver and all."

Chauffeur for at least one more day, then. I'm okay with that.