Carefree Highway

YEEEEEEEEHHAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!! I am, FINALLY, licensed to drive. As far as I know, I'm the last person in my graduating class to get my license, but oh well. I suppose the chagrin will wear off someday. For some unfathomable reason, I was not too nervous. My stomach decided to take up knitting for a couple hours, but my hands weren't shaky. I was granted 6 points on the preliminary parking torture, and quickly accumulated six points. ($%^&* parallel parking. I could #$%^& parallel park last night, in the dark, without the helpful pylons.)With this not so auspicious start, we began the test. Nothing too serious- the instructor and my dad had a running conversation going about Boeing's new 800 passenger Dreamliner, which her son is apparently an engineer for, the sad decline of complimentary food on airplanes, and also various accidents that occured last night. Cheering and heartening topics all. It all went pretty good, give or take a few missing left shoulder checks, an "almost" stop at a blinking red left turn, and a rather hot entrance to an exit ramp curve. I accumulated only 8 out of 25 possible points, the lady said that at the beginning she had me figured for a perfect test, (I think she says that to everyone) and the parting was made in mutual cordiality, plus one driver's license certificate. Glad to have that done, of course. However, it opens up a whole new area of worry. Do I want the Javelin, or the Lamborghini?
Eiher way, the songs of Gordon Lightfoot are the ULTIMATE road trip music, particularly Carefree Highway. Tied for second are the Beach Boys, Keola Beamer, Lefte Banke, and the Ventures Christmas album. (This last, of course, is seasonal.)