Frustrating to a Young Man

¶ … frustrating to a young man than waiting. Waiting in line, waiting for my favorite television program, or waiting for my mom to pick me up. But when I was fifteen years old and just a short time from getting my driver's license, waiting became pure torture. But like all things my sixteenth birthday arrived and I finally went to the DMV to take my test. If not being nervous was part of the test, I never would have passed. But I did and while I gained a great deal of freedom, I also got a lot of responsibility. In the end I learned that with freedom comes responsibility.

I remember that there was nothing that made me more envious than when one of my friends turned 16 and got their driver's license. They got to drive around in their parents cars, some of them even got their own. As it turned out, one friend of mine, a young man named Gary who had been held back a year in school because he had immigrated from Poland, got his license a whole year before the rest of us. I can remember how all the kids made fun of his accent when he first came to our school, but he got the last laugh when he drove to school for a whole year while the rest of us had to ride our bikes.

I think it was the freedom that came along with a driver's license that I really envied. I hated waiting for my mom or dad to take me somewhere or pick me up. For instance, every time I wanted to see a movie with my friends I could only go if I could get one of my parents to drive me. Or when I went to hang out at the mall with my friends, instead of just leaving when I wanted, I had to wait for my parents to pick me up. However, as bad as that was, when you don't have a license, trying to go out with a girl can be extremely problematic. Girls don't really want to go out with a guy who has to get their mom to drive them around.

I was nervous all day at school on my sixteenth birthday. I don't really remember anything about school that day except waiting for my mom to pick me up and take me to get my license. When I entered the DMV, I suddenly understood all the jokes people make about it, it was complete chaos. One line to register, one for the eye test, one line for the written test, another for the road test, and finally another line for a photo. The people who worked there treated everyone like a number, or something that they had to endure. I entered the DMV a child but when I emerged I was an adult. I somehow felt that navigating that chaos had aged me, or that suffering through a government bureaucracy was a right of passage into adulthood. But whatever the case, I had my license and was an adult.

I drove the way home with my mom in the passenger seat, and I never felt so mature or free. But then came the responsibility part. That night my parents sat me down and explained how driving the family car meant contributing as well as receiving. They told me if I wanted to drive the family car, I had to pay for my insurance. And while it wasn't much, it was a financial expenditure that I had not foreseen. They also told me that I had to pay for the gas I used, and perform other chores around the house in exchange for my using the car. These were all things I had not anticipated prior to actually getting my license.