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February 20, 2010
From 2/19

I had thought that, by telling myself it *was* going to happen, it wouldn't happen, but there I was at a red light, stalled, my feet spastic on the pedals, right hand gripping the stick shift like Excalibur.

"Why are you crying?" my father yelled from within his beard.

"Because you're yelling at me!"

"I'm yelling at you because you're crying!"

I wish I could say the trauma spurred me to pass the test immediately, but it didn't. I failed twice. The third time, I passed more on charm than on skill, thus proving the old adage true.