Drivers License

 In 1962, at age seventeen, I got my first drivers license, from the State of New York.  My mother strongly encouraged me to get it.  I could have gotten a permit the previous year, but I was a little fearful.  It seemed as if everyday when I got home from high school my mother would say, "Let's practice driving," and we would go out driving.  

I was having difficulty parallel parking, so my mother insisted we especially practice that which we knew would be on the road test.  I remember when I did it on the test, it was the best parallel parking I ever did...ever.  Thanks, Mom.

After graduating from college I moved to Michigan for eight months and got a license there.  When I moved New York City in 1968, I needed to get NY State license again.  Without studying the rules of the road, I failed the written test and was embarrassed.  I passed the second time after studying.

One time while working at Seagram's, my wallet was stolen.  I had foolishly left it in my office unattended.  I lost about $50 in cash, credit cards and my drivers license.  Luckily my credit cards were never used by the thief.  I informed the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) my license was stolen and requested a new one, which they provided.

However, I started getting letters from the DMV informing me that I had to pay a fine for various moving violations, which were committed by the person in possession of my stolen license (no photo ID at the time).  I was fed up with this ongoing situation and decided to fight back.  

I took a day off from work and went to Brooklyn Traffic Court, in the borough where my stolen license was being used.  The offense I was accused of was going through a red light.  At the trial, the police officer who gave out the ticket six months before was there and gave his testimony first.

I didn't quite understand the necessary protocol, but before it was my turn to testify, the judge through out the case in my favor.  However, before everything got shut down, I jumped up and asked the judge to let me speak.  I presented evidence my license had been stolen before the incident in question occurred.  I also pointed out that the driver, when asked by the police officer to sign his name, signed, "Lasky Blair," the way my name was written on the license.  Moron!

The scary part came next.  I asked the police officer, in front of the judge, if I was the driver he gave the ticket to and he answered in the affirmative.  I was wearing a beard at the time (1978-1988) and he said he didn't remember the beard, but he was sure it was me.  Really!  You're sure...beyond a reasonable doubt?

In 2007, I moved to the State of North Carolina and needed another drivers license.  To get it, I only had to pass a written test.  I sat in front of a monitor and responded to 20 multiple choice questions.  I had to get 16 correct.  After the first 16, I had already made 4 mistakes.  I had to answer the final 4 correctly...and I did.  Whew!

I don't want to drive any more and I no longer have a valid drivers license.  Cristina drives when we need to use her car.  Or I call Uber.  Much better than me.