Driver's licence ... the overdue one

Pasop/Warning/Achtung: On pain of death you cannot tell anyone else about this post ... I'M HOPING SOME REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY WILL WORK HERE.

Yes, I cheated on my driver's licence. There ... it's out in the open!!

But not in the way most of us think about cheating: I did not pay a bribe, I did not have a traffic officer buddy write out my certificate without going through the test, or the myriad of other ways the inventive undertake to get their hands on the valuable piece of paper (there was no plastic then)!

Before getting to the test, let me explain how I came to apply for my driver's licence.

I was enjoying driving the beast too much to worry about legalities when the local traffic cop, who lived in our community, decided that I could not possibly have a licence. These people have ways and means to make one's life uncomfortable and one day, while on my way home from work, he pounced!

He gave me a long, long lecture about being a killer to drive on a public road without a licence. So long, in fact, I started wondering if he was not related to group of wannabe gangsters I spoke about in an earlier post. The more he spouted what seemed to be utter nonsense, the more convinced I became. With hindsight it was clear that he was angling for a bribe but this snoek refused to bite. Oh yes, in case I have Aussie followers, a snoek is local barracuda variety.

So, as he saw in my blank eyes that his opportunity for a bribe was equivalent to finding a missing Malaysian Boeing 777 (#MH370), he wrote me a massive fine. There! I simply had to get my licence and I made the appointment.

Here comes the cheating part ...

I worked at a local brick maker at the time. Because everyone knew that I owned a beast of a car and drove on the right side of the road (in our country right is left) , everyone held the clearly erroneous opinion that I owned a valid driver's licence as well. To my credit, I never once claimed to have a driver's licence at the time but, on the other side of the trial balance, neither did I disabuse my fellow workers of their opinions. I learnt early on that people place much stock in their own opinions.

The assumption served me well at the time since I was asked by various people at the office to go and buy them breakfast and other items in town. So I got myself many hours of driver self-training and free use of the company's pool cars.

One drives extra carefully if one is in possession of facts that others did not have :-).

I had to collect keys from a secretary to carry out these chores. Eventually so many people, including managers asked me she stopped asking me what I going to do with the pool car: I could take pool car keys at will around breakfast or lunch time.

On the morning of my driving test, I indicated to my manager that I had to leave work for a few hours and was granted this privilege - no cheating there! I promptly went to the secretary's office and relieved her of the keys to a little #Mazda 323 pool car without further explanation! You see, I learnt that passing out in the loud, wide and heavy beast in Stellenbosch' narrow streets was akin to committing the driving version of hara kiri.

So I cheated by taking a small pool to undertake my test! Not what you expected, hey ;-)

The driving test consisted of a brief overview of the rules of the road in the office of a traffic officer and then, when he was satisfied, out into town for a series of exercises in normal traffic.

Now I had pegged the particular officer for either a #Ford or a #Chev man. I took a bet and told him about my beast and the way his eyes lit up, I knew he was hooked! As we drove through Stellenbosch in the small Mazda, which I professed not like, we chatted like old friends about Ford muscle cars. But that did not did not quite seal the deal for me.

As we drove down #DorpStreet in town, an inconsiderate motorist pulled out of a parking right in front of us without indicating. After braking sharply and with my legendary restraint, I stuck my right hand out of my open window (it was summer) and gently showed the offending motorist how I felt about his untoward action. I may have muttered something under my breath as well at the same time - until I caught myself and realised that the traffic officer was still sitting next to me! Bummer!

Bummer? A furtive and initially anxious glance to my left showed my new-found traffic officer buddy with half his torso out the other window gesticulating and shouting wildly! Lucky break for me, for sure ...

When he managed to get his considerable girth back into the little car, I decided to rub it in with a: "Officer, shall I pursue the idiot?". Luckily, sanity prevailed and he replied in the negative. I thought then that the deal was sealed and so it proved when my new buddy said: " I can see you can drive". Although I still had to do an obligatory 3-point turn, my licence was as good as in my hands and I had a buddy amongst the elite of our town's traffic officers!

So, when I returned the car to the pool, I gave the secretary a chocolate which I have bought on the way back. BTW, she loved chocolates and nothing was ever said about this episode at work or anywhere until now ...

That right there is the 1980 story of me getting to drive legally on our beautiful roads for the rest of my life!

I do not know where I'm going with this blog next but I need to tell you about taking the beast to Durban :-) at some stage.

Now good friend, do not forget to follow and share if you think this was a good honest history (not herstory!).

Until next time, which may be tomorrow!