Autoescuela: Part 4

As per my last blog, Thursday, October 20th was the big day. I woke up at 5:30am feeling excited to face the day regardless of whether I passed or failed. At least today, I would be able to get over this endless stress of not knowing what to expect! While it lightly rained, I forced myself to eat some breakfast, even though I was too nervous to eat. I only drank a few sips of coffee so I wouldn’t have a headache because I knew if I drank my usual two cups my heart would palpitate out of my chest.

Luckily the rain stopped when I left the house at 7:15am. I put on my “driving shoes” (barefoot Merrell shoes) and walked up the hill to the pueblo to meet my instructor and classmates at the Autoescuela. By 8:00am, everyone had arrived: Instructor, Pablo, Sergio, and Mystery Kid (I didn’t learn his name and he didn’t say a word the entire day). After stopping in Las Planas (something about a trailer) we arrived in Denia around 8:30 only to stop at some other unknown place. I wasn’t sure why until I saw Sergio but on boots, knee pads, helmet, glasses, vest, and ear buds. Then I realized he must be taking the motorcycle license exam. Once he was ready, we continued driving into the city center of Denia. It was interesting to watch our Instructor give him formal driving commands through a walkie-talkie while we followed directly behind him in the car.

We drove by the municipal building where I had taken my theory exam. Parked along the streets were twenty-some Autoescuela cars with groups of three or four students standing around outside. Hopefully, there are a lot of examiners I thought.

While our Instructor ran around and talked with other instructors we stood outside and waited. Eventually, I sat down in a cafe with Sergio, who I’d never met, and learned that this was his fifth time taking the motorcycle exam because he had failed the first four times. ¡Joder!  He said he needs the license because he’s going to school to become a policeman and it’s a requirement.

Our Instructor returned with no more information about when it would be our turn. I asked how this process usually works. He said that the examiners start around 8:30 or 9:00 and they don't provide an order or list of times. Every school has to show up early and wait their turn. If you’re not there and ready to go when it's your turn, you will be automatically “suspendido” (failed). And what I didn’t know until today is that if you fail the exam for any reason, you have to wait a minimum of a month and a half before you’ll be given the opportunity to take it again. This news really raised the stakes for me.

Instructor y mis compañeros

After what had already felt like an eternity of waiting, we found out that we were the last autoescuela on the list. UGH- the torture! SO WE CONTINUED STANDING ON THE STREET WAITING FOR HOURS. Finally, at around 12:00 our examiner arrived to begin our testing. THANK GOD THERE WILL BE AN END TO THIS. I was last in our group. Sergio went first on the motorcycle, then the two other boys went together, while I continued standing on the sidewalk waiting, feeling exhausted, hungry, and under-caffeinated. All of the other autoescuelas had left by the time they returned. I was literally THE last person of the day to take the exam. I approached the car, got out my residency card (picture ID), and got inside. The examiner sits in the back because the Instructor has to sit in the front passenger seat in case of a situation requiring him to use the second set of pedals- clutch, brake, and gas. I greeted the examiner, handed him my card, and then started arranging my seat and all of the mirrors as normal. After a few seconds of looking at the residency card, he says (in Spanish of course), “Do you have the visa renewal approval? Because this residency is expired.”

FUCK. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. Looking at him through the rearview mirror my eyes clearly expressing this sentiment, he continued, “With this expired card you will not be able to take the exam today.” My heart sunk into my stomach. I could not endure standing and waiting for SIX hours, having to be mentally ready at any moment ever again. This can’t be happening. I explained that I had it, but at my home in Javea. (In retrospect I should have known to bring extra papers, but I just thought they wanted to see a picture ID, and didn’t think that it would provoke an investigation into our residency status!) He asked if I could get the document within a half hour because, if so, he was willing to take a short break and return. This was a pretty unlikely gesture from someone with his power, who could have easily ended his work day in that moment.

I got out of the car and called Davin, who thankfully was working at home. He found the document and zoomed over the mountain to meet us in Denia as fast as he could. Instructor and I drove by him standing on the side of the road with the documents, which we grabbed through the window and headed back to the testing area.

We returned to the testing area and all I could think was this kind man has given me the opportunity to test even though I didn’t come prepared, I cannot f*ck up this grace of humanity. The examiner returned, got in the car, and we began. Just as Jefe had warned me, some examiners will tell you to start driving and go wherever you’d like. Unfortunately, this was the first thing mine instructed me to do. This is unfortunate because I still don’t know the city of Denia very well and could have easily gone down a road with some complex train intersection like there are plenty of in Denia- a test death sentence. So I drove and after about five minutes he gave me commands to follow. Everything seemed to go just fine until it was time to park. I had to parallel park in between two cars- something I had only practiced once with Jefe who had a different method than I usually use. So attempting to use his method I backed in and gently hit the curb. Then I repeated the same mistake. Feeling really embarrassed, I defaulted to my way, which involves looking back over my shoulder and slipped in easily on the third try. After that, he directed me back to the place we started and that was it for the exam, probably 15-20 minutes in total.

He didn’t give me any feedback at the end which my Instructor took as a sign that I had passed but THEY DON’T TELL YOU IF YOU’VE PASSED OR NOT THAT DAY. How cruel is that? You have to go online the next day to find out, and even then it may take them two or three days to post results. At that point, all I cared about was going home. I needed food, a stiff drink, and ibuprofen because my back was killing me after standing all day.

It was great to start fresh on Friday. Even though my Instructor had felt confident I passed, I couldn’t feel happy until I saw the official result. Then, eventually, I saw it: APTO.  

I did it. I am done.

My instructor gave me the "L" that I must now wear on the back of my car for my first year as a "new" driver. It reminds me of how much of the time this experience has made me feel like a complete "loser." I felt like a loser for many reasons: I was older, I was foreign, I didn't understand language, I didn't understand the logic, and I had to relearn how to do something I thought I knew how to do. However, in this process, I was forced to let go of all my cultural norms and except that the way I drove (or the way we drive in the US) isn't necessarily the right way. In Spain, the right way to drive is the Spanish way. 

Beyond the pride I feel for surviving an experience that was completely foreign, uncertain, and challenging, I feel most proud of the insight I've gained into compassion for other drivers. On the road, as in life in general, it's so easy to observe other people's actions and judge them as right or wrong. "What a jerk!" I've often thought based on someone's actions on the road. However, we all carry out our lives according to the culture we were raised, and we make value judgements based on this life experience. What I've learned is that the real "jerk" is the person making a judgement without having compassion for everything in the other person's life that led them to take that action. We never really know. I will never really know why Jefe thought I needed to take eleven practica lessons before taking the exam. Would I have still passed and was that money wasted? 

I do know for certain that I hold deep gratitude for the examiner who found compassion in his heart for my naivety as a foreigner on the day of my exam and gave me the opportunity to take it. This compassion is what I plan to pay-forward, on the road, or off.