Getting around New york city was really easy. Back in those days (1982-1998), I had a choice between taking the subway or a cab, riding my bike or as i often did, used my feet to get around town.
It was during the early eighties that i somehow lost my driver’s license. I assumed that when the expiration date drew near, the Department of Motor vehicles would automatically send comprare patente b online. me a renewal form. Had I bothered to investigate, I would have discovered that it was my responsibility, not theirs, to submit the necessary renewal forms in a timely manner.
But what did I care? After all, I reasoned, why have a car in New york when it was virtually impossible to find a parking spot and on the lucky few times when you did find one, an enterprising traffic cop would almost always cite you for some ridiculous parking violation? Didn’t they have anything more important to do, like catching hardened criminals or something?
What I didn’t know was that if your license was not renewed within a certain time frame, the law required that you go through the whole process of re-applying for a new one all over again. That meant getting your eyes checked, taking several weeks of driver’s ed followed by a written multiple choice test and then a road exam. All of this would take weeks, if not months.
One day, I felt a strong urge to get my affairs in order, including getting a new driver’s license. On the face of it, there was no reason to do it. Several more weeks passed without taking any action until the urge became so strong, that i could no longer ignore it.
With great reluctance, I signed up for drivers ed during the winter of 1996-1997. After i took all of the required classes and passed the written exam, a road test was scheduled for January 1997. A week after the appointment was made, a letter from the Department of Motor vehicles came in the mail with instructions to meet the examiner in Brooklyn, NY on a specific date and time.
When i got there, there was a small group would-be drivers shivering in the cold, waiting for the examiner to show up. They were mostly high school boys and girls who had just turned sixteen. I was probably one of oldest people in my thirties there that day.
After what seemed like hours, I spied a small black four-door Nissan with “Department of Motor Vehicles” emblazoned on the side, making its way over.
The examiner took forever in gathering her papers, made what was probably an unnecessary phone call and sloshed her way through the wet snow to where we all were standing. She took roll call, fast reading off a litany of names, making her speech somewhat unintelligible, even for an expert lip-reader like myself.
I inched a little closer, furrowed my eyebrows and zeroed in on her thick lips, hoping to catch my name tumbling out of her mouth. Instead, I found myself wondering if she recently had her lips injected with collagen! I shook my head vigorously and forced myself to focus a little harder.