The Nerd from American Splendor

To get to Los Angeles, I'll have to drive. To get around Los Angeles, I'll have to drive. This is what I've been told. This is what I accept.

After a hearty 3 hour wait at the Greenwood DMV local, I got my permit. I could have seen a couple eps of Mad Men in the time it took to wait. I could have caught a quick pitchers duel in the time it took to wait. I could have had a doctor's appointment in the time it took to wait. Hold on, that's right-- I did that one. Went to my doctor's office in Belltown, was told there ain't shit to do about my carpal tunnel, and was back at the DMV before my take-a-ticket number was called. In contrast, it took me less than 10 minutes to pass my second permit knowledge test in 5 years. I only missed one, and I think it was the same question I missed 5 years prior. Drinking while driving will result in only 90 days license suspension. I said a year. Call me crazy for thinking drunk driving should have stiffer penalties.

I've taken to the road a few times since, typically coasting at a cautious clip of 25 mph. So far I have scraped a blue trash bin and bumped a crimson coupe. Also, while parked at a stop sign, this plump Toby Radloff-wannabe bicyclist shrieked a piercing, "NOOOOOOOOO!!" to ward me off as she pedaled past. I know I'm piloting a death-dealing boulder of glass and steel, but did I really need the scream?

Today I managed a successful drive to the store and back. No knicks, no scratches, and no freaky cyclists. Woo.