Driving, Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

Swallowing hard, I stood and headed for the car. I was relieved to find that there was only one proctor for my car. There was, however, a passenger: an older lady, probably in her sixties, climbed in. She greeted us both, and had trouble finding her seatbelt, which she she chuckled and commented on good-naturedly. The proctor politely waited for her to find the buckle, but she kept right on talking. She commented on the weather, and was about to talk about the car itself when the proctor politely but firmly cut her off and explained that I needed to take the test.

Kindly old lady quieted, the proctor allowed me to take a practice lap. Like last time, I didn't trust that term for a minute, convinced that if I did horribly on my practice lap, I'd fail the test before it even started. That certainty made me too nervous to ask him questions that would have helped with my actual test performance; I just took the test lap nice and slow.

After returning to the start point, I put the car in park and pulled the emergency brake. He formally announced that the test had begun, and directed me to turn left out of the starting road. The starting road entered the course in kind of a strange intersection, and with no stripes or signs, I couldn't figure out what lanes (if any) I could ignore as alleyways in favor of bigger main roads. I signaled, checked my mirrors and blind spots, and made the turn.

I maintained a steady 5km/hr throughout the test, except for the designated stretch calling for 50km/hr. I pumped my brakes at the end of that speed burst. I checked my blind spots all the freaking time. I made it through the S and the crank beautifully. I stopped well before the stop line this time--he didn't even have to get out to look at it. I changed lanes effectively, but this path didn't call for the right turn from last time, sparing me the chance to make that mistake twice.

As we pulled back into the starting road, I smoothly brought the car near the curb, came to a stop nicely, put it in park, applied the emergency brake, and killed the engine. He asked me to act as though I were leaving the car. As this hadn't happened the first time, I was a little disoriented, and opened the door and made to step out of the car without thinking. He made a slight chiding sound--the only audible remark he'd made throughout the test--and announced the test was over.

He asked the lady to step out of the car. After she did, he turned to me, and said

"Meesta Kurisu, you ah sex es."

That's exactly how he said it. His last "tsk tsk" remark, added to his demeanor throughout the test and my general anxiety about the whole thing, had me fully prepared to hear that I had failed. That's why it took me so long to understand what he had said. After chewing on it for a few seconds, my brain finally spat out a translation:

"Mr. Chris, you are a success."

I quickly stopped wondering about the name he'd used--as long as I'd passed, he was free to call me whatever he pleased--and only later realized he was using my middle name because it would have been the last on the listing: "ADAM CHRISTOPHER." I managed a feeble "...r...really?" which amused him. He went on to explain that I had made several mistakes. He had been nervous from the beginning--my confusion about the intersection had apparently been pretty obvious--and said I needed to be more careful checking my mirrors. He actually told me I looked at them too much, and that I should only focus on the mirrors that are relevant to the turn I'm making.

He commended me overall, though, and unfortunately most of his Japanese never managed to register in my mind. After the initial disbelief had worn off, I had a very hard time listening to anything he said. All I could focus on was that I'd made it. I passed!

He congratulated me and asked me to remain and watch the woman's test. I happily agreed. Bless her heart, the lady did awfully. She had to use a cushion to boost herself up high enough to see over the steering wheel. She made a very wide turn to begin the test, and weaved in her lane throughout. She made it through the S and crank, but had trouble following the proctor's instructions regarding where to turn.

We finished, and he asked me to step out of the car, leaving me to wonder forever whether the lady passed, as well as whether she was there for license renewal or because it had been suspended. I made my victory march into the building, was directed to the appropriate room, had my picture taken, and, within ten minutes, had my brand spanking new Japanese driver's license.

When I failed it the first time, I vowed I wouldn't be thankful when I finally received the stupid piece of plastic after all the work. Somehow the experience humbled me a bit. I jumped through the hoops, took it seriously, did the dance the proctor was looking for, and got the license.