Do you ever check the expiration date on your driver’s license? Well, me neither.
This past weekend I was studying with Brooke and she wanted to see the picture on my license. I think everyone has those moments where you laugh at your 16-year-old picture – looking at the bull-cuts, highlight streaks, or awkward grins.
After she got done admiring my picture, she commented that my license was expired. By three months.
Oh goody.
So I went into the DMV this morning and was informed that I had to take the written exam to get it renewed.
As I’m sitting there agonizing over these painful questions at my undersized kiosk, these 15-year-olds are just cranking through this test. Flying. I could have sworn one of them was playing DDR with their fingers as they chose their answers within a fraction of a second.
Sweating bullets I’m having to chose between slowly following a bicyclist to slowly passing. Hesitantly I submitted my test. Definitely harder than any test at the private university I attend.
I passed, and what was the reward?
The joy to now be considered an official Utah resident. Farewell Washington stereotypes – I’ll miss recycling and socks with my sandals.
