I’ve got it back. The probationary driver license… or naah.. I’ve never had any but now I’ve got it. Bitter.
My son has recently received his driver’s license. I refused to participate in that silly course. If I’ve taught two kids to drive I’m not suddenly going to sit behind a school bench at some stupid seminar to teach the last born. He passed the test with flying colors and bought a green Mercedes. Christ, he’s changing lamps, untangling belts and measuring tire tread.
– I’m on license probation, he says.
– What’s that, I ask.
– The smallest mistake from the regulations and my license gets withdrawn, the newly hatched driver informs.
I remember my own driver license day in January 1976. Mama filled up the Opel Record from 1966. My license had only cost her 56$ so she was generous.
– Here’s what you goanna do, she said. Head on out and drive as much as you want.
I drove to Kjell and challenged his 1965 PV-Sport. We put the pedal to the metal through the Skule woods. His B18 was much stronger and higher geared. The Opel squealed like a pig in 95 mph when he sailed past me with a gracious wave. Since then it’s been 38 years under the radar but now I’m suddenly on probation.
It’s a small town. The cops have their eye on the green driver in the green Mercedes. The thing is, I borrow it sometimes. My driving is as usual; driving on curbs putting up posters, driving on footbridges to find locations for photo shoots, taking shortcuts through roundabouts and the other day I went on the wrong side of a stupid traffic island that was in my way. Around 56 you want to go straight and comfortable rather than twisting and turning as a part of a frickin’ slalom. The ribcage feels achy.
Then I met the law. Without the lights on, in the middle of the day without belt, I’m born in the decade of freedom.
– What the heck, Krantz. Think before you drive. If it had been your son he would have lost his license, the young officer said.
.
I’m feeling dejected.
– Exactly how long is this probation period?
Haha.. Inte lätt å va ödmjuk då man är bäst!!! ;)
Hehe.
– Trevlig betraktelse.
Oslagbar avslutning! “Jag är född på frihetens tid”. Underbar betraktelse.
Tog körkortet -71 när jag gick på sjöbefäl, vi hade tagit en öl på Atena och när vi for hem med vår femtikronors-folka så råkade vi sladda in i en trafikdelare så bilen välte på sida, stockholmsettan (dåtidens mest hatade polis) var på plats sekunderna efter och rusade fram medans vi klättrade ur höger dörr som nu blev taklucka. Va f-n gör ni? han sniffade på oss, sedan sa han: packa er härifrån genast, så vi välte bilen på hjulen och for hem, sedan utbröt veckans gladaste skratt, väl hemma. Det var då det.
Detta är dock en ren myt. Prövotiden innebär inget annat än att ett brott som gör att du blir av med körkortet innebär att du alltid måste ta om det. Det är aldrig tidsbegränsat, vilket det i vissa fall är för oss utan prövotid. Däremot blir du inte av med det lättare.
Myt eller inte. Nu har prövotiden gått för mej och junior och kör mot röd gubbe i barnvagnsfilen med hazarden på backen i framstupa sidoläge igen.
-Skönt.