failure

I've been driving for a few years now. My dad taught me everything when I was about 14. I learned all of the rules of the road, how to drive a manual, how to jumpstart a car, how to change a tire, and a lot of other small mechanical things. He worked as a car dealer and mechanic for a while, and would often bring home fun, fast sports cars from the dealership when I still lived with him. I eventually got my permit and began to drive a lot more often, on main roads and the thruway rather than just around back streets. We would drive fast and free; trying to drift around bends while pushing the speedometer higher and higher was our own sort of bonding time. We never really had too many activities we did together, but driving and racing each other was something we never took for granted.

Having learned how to drive from one of the best drivers I've ever known, I didn't have a doubt that I'd pass my road test back in November. I signed up to take it in Catskill, and spent the previous months reviewing all rules of the road and making sure I was comfortable in any situation I could find myself in. The night before the test, I must've parallel parked behind our old beat up Jeep Cherokee fifty times. I awoke the day of the test early and was the first to the testing site at 9:00 am. I anxiously sat in wait, nervous of what lied ahead but confident that I could pass. My test examiner showed up late, speeding towards the DMV office with a cigarette in one hand with his other holding a cell phone. He parked and got out, yelling into his phone angrily and finally threw his cigarette into the street, scanned the registration of my car, and got in. He hardly said a word other than "pull out and take a left at the light." I followed his instructions quietly and made sure to pay vigil attention to the world around me as I slowly made my way through the test. Parallel parking behind an old beat up SUV, I wasn't worried at all until the examiner began yelling as loud as he could saying I wasn't paying attention, my ears ringing as I panicked. The park was fine, but I was visibly shaking as he continued to berate me and yell at me for not being careful enough, claiming I was "careless and dangerous." The rest of the test was rather uneventful; I went slow and careful, exercising as much caution as possible while he continued to yell at me for things I never even did. I brought the car back to the examination center, and he began to list off all of the reasons I failed. Abrupt braking, excessive speed, failure to pay attention, and apparently swerving all over the road were just a few of my infractions. He cursed, claimed that I needed work, and left me in the car alone. That day was one of the first days that I became disgusted with those in a position of authority who simply abuse their power because they are capable. I wouldn't let the failure get to me; I took my test again a month later in Poughkeepsie during rush hour and passed with no points taken off after I had changed nothing about what I did from last time. I won't say that I did absolutely nothing wrong my first test because it's possible I could've panicked and messed up. All I do know is that DMV people are the worst people on this earth.