Driving, episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Though it didn't really bother me, I expected to be the only person walking the course. I was one of about ten. I spent a solid hour pacing the pavement, tracing out exactly how to take turns and drilling as best as I could on checking my mirrors and blind spots all the time. I couldn't help but be a little distracted by this freaking awesome caterpillar I found, though. I'm pretty sure it's a Deilephila elpenor. Check out the antenna on his butt. Check it out on YouTube, too.

At about 12:50, the proctors came out and started up the cars. I had looked the cars over already: they were Toyota Comforts, and looked like retired taxis. They were definitely bigger than my little Kei. (I'd say close to double the size.) The proctors came in, had people move to different parts of the room depending on which test they were taking (the full-on test for Japanese, and the slightly toned-down version for us foreigners), and explained the course to everyone.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go first. I was, however, asked to ride in the backseat with the first person. There was also an additional proctor in the backseat with me. I honestly can't recall anything about the girl who took the test, except that she got a good-natured mini-lecture from the proctor about rolling the window down at train tracks. After we made our circuit, he asked the backseat proctor and I to step out of the car so he could discuss the results with the girl.

She stepped out, and he called my name. After I got in the car, he explained that I'd have a practice lap to familiarize myself with the car. After making that brief circuit, the test would begin. Remembering one of the things echoed by every source I'd found online--adjust the seat, adjust the mirrors, put your seatbelt on, start the car, put down the emergency brake, put the car in gear, in that order--I began. I was so preoccupied with getting used to the handling of the much larger car that I forgot to roll my window down at the train tracks; however, since it was the practice lap, the proctor gave another good-natured mini-lecture.

Returning to the start point, the proctor had me put the car in park, pull up the parking brake, and shut the car off. His voice then changed a little bit, turning a bit more official, and he told me the test had begun. He instructed me to get ready and turn out. I adjusted the seat, adjusted my mirrors, put my seatbelt on, started the car, put down the parking brake, and put the car in gear, in that order, and pulled out.

I handled the initial straightaway with no problem, getting up to the designated 50 km/hr quickly--the lady had been clear that they're looking for deliberate and not gentle acceleration--and pumped my brakes before the bend in the road. I checked my mirrors diligently, even when nothing was coming up. I made my first left turn with no problem. I started the crank, bumped the curb at one point, but calmly reversed and corrected it. I made my turns correctly, got through the S with absolutely no problem, and continued on.

The course includes an intersection of two four-lane roads with crosswalks and a functioning stoplight. It wasn't until after the test that I realized that doesn't exist anywhere on Tsushima. At any rate, I had to make a right turn (into the leftmost lane, remember) a short distance away from that stoplight, and make a right turn at the intersection. The light turned yellow as I got to it, and I had to come to an abrupt stop. I crossed the stop line a little, so I calmly turned on my hazards, put the car in reverse, and turned to look back as I fixed it. As far as recoveries go, there was no problem.

After putting the car back into drive, I suddenly remembered I was supposed to be making a right turn. I was still in the left lane. I had been so preoccupied with making a show of checking for imaginary cross traffic and for bicyclists that I completely forgot to change lanes. So I had to turn on my hazards again, put the car in reverse, and look over my shoulder as I corrected the mistake. The proctor was completely silent at this point; not an ominous silence, but rather a let's-wait-and-see silence.

I made the turn, unable to help being a little flustered. One of the last parts of my route was a stop sign--the only one on the course--with a stop line. I made the full stop--I doubt I'll ever forget Mom's crusade against rolling stops--and was about to make the turn as instructed, when the proctor snapped "Stop!" My blunders a moment before had upset me more than I thought: he didn't really snap so much as break my train of thought, which at that point consisted of lots of expletives about my carelessness. Anyway, he checked and confirmed that I was very close to over the line; I couldn't muster the concentration to understand what he actually said in Japanese, and had to go by his tone alone.

Resigning myself to the inevitable, I brought the car around to the start point. He politely asked the backseat passengers to step out, and just as politely explained to me that I had failed. His explanation was in full-speed Japanese, and I couldn't bring myself to ask him if he spoke English, or to write down what he was saying, or even just to slow down. I had apparently made the stop well, and he told me that I'd started out just fine. I'd slacked off on checking my mirrors at the end, and there was a long chunk of indecipherable Japanese that I can only assume was about the stoplight fiasco. I thanked him, got my registration form back, and trudged back to the DMV.

The lady was politely consoling, and told me to hang in there, study, and do my best next time. I took a taxi to the airport and caught the next flight home.

I haven't been that mad in about three years. I was mad at the DMV for being so nitpicky, at my school for making me take vacation days to fail a test, at Nagasaki prefecture for having only one DMV to accommodate all its disparate islands, at the DMV for not having an islands-only version of the license for those of us who only drive on 40km/hr country roads, and at the Japanese government for refusing to honor American IDPs after the first year.

Most of all, though, I was mad at myself. I can only imagine how furious I would have been if I'd done my absolute best, had been completely sure I demonstrated competence and alertness on the road, and had still failed. As it was, though, I could hardly blame the proctor for failing me. This test is to demonstrate our ability to handle everything from side streets in Tsushima to rush hour traffic in Tokyo; how could he in good conscience license me to drive in his country when, based on what he'd seen, I couldn't even handle a stoplight? He didn't know I only planned to drive in Tsushima. Realizing that didn't make me any less mad, of course.

Tail decidedly between my legs, I made my way back home. I sorely regretted having told everyone where I was going that weekend: everybody greeted me that week with a cheery "How'd it go?"

Oh, and two of the other second-year ALTs on the island, while technically in the same boat as me, haven't even considered taking the test. Their schools don't keep up with them well enough to have noticed. To avoid any possible trouble with a po-po, they've both taken a sharpie to the front of their IDP (where "valid one year from _____" is prominently displayed, with the date filled in by the person at AAA who issues it), changing the 7 to an 8 in 2007.