“Patriotic Privileges”

By

Gerry Niskern

They came in cut-offs and tank tops, baggy shorts and super size tees. They had ponytails, short hair and shaved heads; and that was just the adults.

The teenagers were easier to spot. They had that “I just turned sixteen today; give me my driver’s license” look. Their confidence was not shared by the designated parent trailing behind. Panic would best describe their expression.

The Fourth of July week has just concluded.  We were all treated to patriotic speakers enumerating the liberties and opportunities afforded us as citizens of this country. That’s exactly what I, along with other residents here in the valley, was doing last week, taking advantage of the privilege of carrying an Arizona drivers license.

The office of the Arizona State Motor Vehicle division was very busy. An elderly gentleman, in bell-bottom dress pants with white shoes and a wide white belt was waiting in the front row.  He was having a ball telling the arriving teens,” Sorry, there are no more licenses left, I just got the last one!”

The first line was the eye test and to get an application for a driver’s license renewal.  I soon became aware of the diversity of people at the facility. The Japanese lady standing next to me had an interpreter to help her fill out her application. The sweaty hat lying on the counter next to me belonged to an Hispanic man. It was obvious by the bits of grass clinging to his pants and shoes that he’d already been to work

I turned in my form and opted to have a new picture taken. After receiving a number I was told to wait to be called. It’s a good thing the lady’s calm voice calling out D036…D037…was very soothing since the numerous babies who had brought their parents for tests, had their own agendas. They were, in turn, screaming, laughing, talking and nursing. The rest were throwing toys, crackers and Tippee cups. One two-year-old cutie was eluding his mother by running under the ropes and through the lines of people. A few were actually sleeping.

One snoozing infant, sucking on his Binky, was handed off to Dad when his very nervous mother was called for her road test.  The examiner, an MVD employee, was wearing shorts and a big sports shirt. Silly me, I expected to see an uniformed officer. I was told later that that was the first thing the employees were taught, how to conduct road tests.

A senior on my left was holding her new license. I asked her how long the wait had been? “Oh, not long at all. We all came together on our bus and they took us right away. See those women in the motorized chairs over there. They’re in my group. I brought my cane.”

“Did you have to take the road test?” “Oh, no. I moved here a month ago.  I had just renewed my license in my home state.”

“When does your license expire?” I inquired. “In 2007”

“Did you get your first license at age sixteen?” She laughed, “Oh, yes. And now I’m 82.”

When I was on my way out the door I passed the nervous mom. She had failed her road test. She was choking back tears and asking” But, how will I get to work?”

The driver of the retirement resort bus braked for a sixteen-year-old chauffeuring his mom home in the family sedan as the soothing voice droned on…… D078……D079……