I guess I never really thought about what the Bomb Squad drives…
Cramming for a test at fifty is like a dream come true. You know — the one where they read your transcripts and find you never REALLY finished Algebra and you have to go back to High School. Oh, and for some reason, you are in Study Hall in your underpants. That dream.
I’ve got the Theory part of my driving test a week from tomorrow. That’s a multiple-choice dealie plus a bogus ‘hazard perception’ test that probably sounded all high-tech and sciencey when it was first proposed in, like, 1995 (you press a wired input device charmingly known as a mouse!).
I’ve got a study DVD Uncle B very kindly gave me for my birfday and I’ve started the long cram. I have to answer fifty from a pool of nine-hundred-something questions, with 80% accuracy. So far, I’ve passed all the simulated tests I’ve taken using common sense, but I certainly haven’t aced any. And some of the questions make me wish there was a default, “no, seriously — WTF?” option.
Pelican crossing, my silky sable ass.
November 11, 2009 — 8:13 pm
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