29 MarThe DMV, My Daughter, and Me

Today I walked into the DMV with my sixteen year old daughter. We were there to get her learner’s permit. Fortunately, when we walked out she had her permit in hand. It wasn’t as simple as it sounds.

She could have had her permit a year ago on her fifteenth birthday. Like most teenagers she wanted to get her permit as soon as it was legal. It didn’t work out. I can’t remember all that conspired against her. One thing would be that she had six siblings ahead of her. I walked into the DMV with each of them and perhaps had grown tired of the event. Another reason is that once, when she was practicing driving by parking the car in our driveway, she ran the car up on the front step ruining one of the four brand new tires I had just put on. This shook her enough that she quit pushing me to get her permit.

A year later she was over her little accident and the desire to get her license returned. She studied the handbook. She built up her courage. She asked me again when we could go get her permit. I was willing enough, but we live in small, remote town named Levan. The DMV is located thirteen miles away, in Nephi. It’s only open on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. I get up at 2:30 am each morning to teach English to Chinese students over the Internet. Then I drive a morning school bus route. Then I come home and sleep. Then I have to drive my afternoon bus route.  It was difficult for me to find a break in this routine to get Glory in to the DMV to take her test.

Her sixteenth birthday was a couple of days ago. The day was a bit of a disappointment for her because we wouldn’t celebrate until the weekend a few days later. It would be more convenient for everyone. Feeling bad for her I decided that I needed to quit stalling and take her to the DMV. Seemed to me that would be a good birthday present.  Yesterday I told her the plan. “Come into Nephi with me on the bus in the morning. I will take you to the DMV after the run and then get you back to school.” She agreed.

This morning I saw her rushing to get ready as I rushed to the bus.

“Are you coming with me?” I asked. She doesn’t come with me that often.

“You’re taking me to the DMV, right?”

“Oh, right,” I said. I had forgotten. I’m like that. I forget things that aren’t in my routine.

I dropped her off with the other early morning kids at the school.

“I’ll pick you up when I finish the route,” I said.

“Thank you, Daddy.” She waved.

After I finished the morning route I got in a car and drove the thirteen miles back to Levan like I do every morning. I was looking forward to going back to bed. As soon as I pulled into the driveway the phone rang. It was Glory wondering where I was. I palmed myself in the head and told her.

“You’ve got to come back,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

I drove the thirteen miles back, picked her up at the school, and drove her to the DMV. After she filled out the application we were called to one of the windows. The lady was nice, but asked for Glory’s birth certificate, social security card, and two forms of documentation that certified our residency.

I palmed myself in the head again. I had forgotten to bring any of these things. Oh, my sleepy brain.

We had no choice but to go home, thirteen miles, to Levan and locate these items.

“I’m never going to get my permit,” my daughter said, a hint of accusation in her voice.

I was sleepy. I felt guilty. We were going to get her permit no matter what.

We returned the thirteen miles with documents in hand and approached the lady in the window fully prepared. A mother was doing the same thing with her son at the window next to us. I noticed the mother had her son pull out his debit card and she taught him how to use it to pay the permit fee. I looked at Glory.

“I’m between checks, Daddy,” she said, looking at me with her big, brown eyes.

I whipped out my card and paid. It was her birthday after all.

I sat down, near the mother, to read while Glory took the test. The boy finished his test first. I overheard him tell his mother he had failed. They went to a window to prepare for a second try.

Then Glory approached looking very calm.

“Did you pass?”

“Yes.”

I knew she would.

We both walked proudly to the window next to the mother and her son.

“She passed. First try,” I said to the DMV lady just loudly enough for others to hear. The boy looked over. Good looking kid. Glory smiled. I smiled.

We drove the thirteen miles back to Levan. She took a picture of her permit and sent it to her older brothers and sisters. It was an important moment for Glory. It was bittersweet for me. Sweet because my youngest daughter is growing up. Bitter because my youngest daughter is growing up.

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