Wednesday, October 04, 2006
I'm a Loser Baby
Åker pendeltåg, jag är en loser baby, jag har ingen körkort.
-This is a line from a Markoolio song that was popular when we first moved to Sweden. Translation: I ride the commuter train, I'm a loser baby, I have no driver's license.
It was the end of summer 2005. I relaxed on a chaiselounge on a sparkling white Greek beach shaded by a palmleaf umbrella. As a waitress placed an ice-cold drink on the little table next to me, I fished a book out of my beach bag, turned to a random page, and read:
The tread on snow tires must be at least three millimeters deep. You are required to have snow tires on your car from 1 December to 31 March.
I slammed the book shut and threw it on the table, almost toppling my sweating tropical drink.
“It’s 90 degrees in the shade! I just can’t get into winter tires right now!” I said.
“Well, you’d better if you plan on taking your Swedish drivers test in October!” KA said.
It wouldn’t surprise me if all the gorillas at the San Diego Zoo have California driver’s licenses. (In fact, I’m sure I’ve seen a few gorillas behind the wheel on the I-15 at rush hour!) Passing the theory part of the California driver’s license test is as easy as 1-2-3: 1) Grab a Department of Motor Vehicles study brochure, 2) whip through it out in the parking lot, and 3) march right in and take the test. Don’t forget your ipod and headset so you won’t get bored during the 20 or so minutes it takes to get through it. Then you just need to pass the driving test, which usually goes well as long as you don’t hit anyone.
KA, who had already gotten his Swedish driver’s license, continued his lecture.
“A couple of your American friends tried to wing it, and they had to take the test again. It’s late August now, and even though we’re on vacation, you’d better use your beach time wisely.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, less than enthusiastically.
KA grabbed the hefty paperback book off the table and thumbed to a page. “You think you could take the test today? You think you don’t need to study? OK. What does a round sign that contains three small black circles that form the shape of an upside-down triangle mean?
“What? I don’t know. ‘Caution: Bowling ball crossing,’maybe? Is that really in there?”
“Yes, that’s really in there. And anything in this book is fair game for the test.”
“What is the formula for calculating how long it takes for you to stop the car if you’re travelling at 60 kilometers per hour?” he continued.
“A math problem? They expect you to work a math problem while you’re speeding down the road at 60 kilometers per hour? How safe is that? You know how bad I am at math. Whatever’s in front of me would be road kill by the time I got that figured out.”
“Well, you’ll have to know the answer to that, and maybe even to this: How much light does a moose reflect from a distance of 50 meters at night?”
Now I’m sure he’s playing with me. “And what is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?” I countered with a line out of ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail.’
“Yeah, go ahead and laugh. But you’d best be studying the Swedish terminology if you’re going to take the test in Swedish. Bet you won’t be laughing so hard when you realize you don’t know what “boggitryck” means.
“Bogey trick? Doesn’t ‘bogey’ have something to do with golf? Is ‘bogey trick’ the same as a hat trick? Why are we suddenly talking about sports? And just one question for you: might any part of the test actually deal with traffic regulations?”
“Yeah, they get to that eventually, but they want you to be a well-rounded driver.”
“Great! I drove for almost 20 years in Southern California traffic without any accidents.”
KA shot me a stern glance.
“Well, none where anyone got hurt anyway, and I have to know differential calculus to get my license here?”
“It’s just simple algebra, for Pete’s sake!”
My quest to be a well-rounded driver continued at home through the month of September, where I used an interactive CD to help me remember such facts as the difference between a car’s service weight, its incidental weight, and its total weight. At the end of each module, I took a test. The CD announced each wrong answer with the blare of a car horn. KA said he could tell when I finished a module because it sounded like a rush hour traffic jam.
By early October, my study book looked as if I’d left it out in the rain and jumped up and down on it. Maybe I did. Dog-eared and dirty, the book sported dozens of curling post-it notes that stuck out between pages like little mocking tongues. I had highlighted so much text that nothing stood out.
When I finally felt that I could calculate stopping distances at various speeds without the aid of a calculator, I booked the test.
The Swedish DMV has a great way to distract you from your nervousness while you’re in the waiting room. You get to use the harshly-lit self-service photo booth to take the picture that will appear on your license for the next 10 years.
You get three shots, and you pick the best of the three. Hmm. This was a tough decision. Did I want the one that looked like I had to pee really, really, badly? Or how about the one that looked as if I had just been notified I have syphillis? The third one was a possibility. It was just butt ugly—it looked as if I had awoken after a hard night of drinking and didn’t know where I was. By the time I pushed the ‘butt ugly’ button, it was test time.
A group of about 50 of us were ushered into the test hall. To make a long story at least a little shorter, 70 questions and 50 minutes later, I passed! That was one test down and two to go! I now had the first part of my boggitryck, um I mean hat trick. On to the slippery track and the road test!
*Boggitryck is the force that a vehicle imparts to the road at the point of its double-axel. Or something like that.
-This is a line from a Markoolio song that was popular when we first moved to Sweden. Translation: I ride the commuter train, I'm a loser baby, I have no driver's license.
It was the end of summer 2005. I relaxed on a chaiselounge on a sparkling white Greek beach shaded by a palmleaf umbrella. As a waitress placed an ice-cold drink on the little table next to me, I fished a book out of my beach bag, turned to a random page, and read:
The tread on snow tires must be at least three millimeters deep. You are required to have snow tires on your car from 1 December to 31 March.
I slammed the book shut and threw it on the table, almost toppling my sweating tropical drink.
“It’s 90 degrees in the shade! I just can’t get into winter tires right now!” I said.
“Well, you’d better if you plan on taking your Swedish drivers test in October!” KA said.
It wouldn’t surprise me if all the gorillas at the San Diego Zoo have California driver’s licenses. (In fact, I’m sure I’ve seen a few gorillas behind the wheel on the I-15 at rush hour!) Passing the theory part of the California driver’s license test is as easy as 1-2-3: 1) Grab a Department of Motor Vehicles study brochure, 2) whip through it out in the parking lot, and 3) march right in and take the test. Don’t forget your ipod and headset so you won’t get bored during the 20 or so minutes it takes to get through it. Then you just need to pass the driving test, which usually goes well as long as you don’t hit anyone.
KA, who had already gotten his Swedish driver’s license, continued his lecture.
“A couple of your American friends tried to wing it, and they had to take the test again. It’s late August now, and even though we’re on vacation, you’d better use your beach time wisely.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, less than enthusiastically.
KA grabbed the hefty paperback book off the table and thumbed to a page. “You think you could take the test today? You think you don’t need to study? OK. What does a round sign that contains three small black circles that form the shape of an upside-down triangle mean?
“What? I don’t know. ‘Caution: Bowling ball crossing,’maybe? Is that really in there?”
“Yes, that’s really in there. And anything in this book is fair game for the test.”
“What is the formula for calculating how long it takes for you to stop the car if you’re travelling at 60 kilometers per hour?” he continued.
“A math problem? They expect you to work a math problem while you’re speeding down the road at 60 kilometers per hour? How safe is that? You know how bad I am at math. Whatever’s in front of me would be road kill by the time I got that figured out.”
“Well, you’ll have to know the answer to that, and maybe even to this: How much light does a moose reflect from a distance of 50 meters at night?”
Now I’m sure he’s playing with me. “And what is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?” I countered with a line out of ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail.’
“Yeah, go ahead and laugh. But you’d best be studying the Swedish terminology if you’re going to take the test in Swedish. Bet you won’t be laughing so hard when you realize you don’t know what “boggitryck” means.
“Bogey trick? Doesn’t ‘bogey’ have something to do with golf? Is ‘bogey trick’ the same as a hat trick? Why are we suddenly talking about sports? And just one question for you: might any part of the test actually deal with traffic regulations?”
“Yeah, they get to that eventually, but they want you to be a well-rounded driver.”
“Great! I drove for almost 20 years in Southern California traffic without any accidents.”
KA shot me a stern glance.
“Well, none where anyone got hurt anyway, and I have to know differential calculus to get my license here?”
“It’s just simple algebra, for Pete’s sake!”
My quest to be a well-rounded driver continued at home through the month of September, where I used an interactive CD to help me remember such facts as the difference between a car’s service weight, its incidental weight, and its total weight. At the end of each module, I took a test. The CD announced each wrong answer with the blare of a car horn. KA said he could tell when I finished a module because it sounded like a rush hour traffic jam.
By early October, my study book looked as if I’d left it out in the rain and jumped up and down on it. Maybe I did. Dog-eared and dirty, the book sported dozens of curling post-it notes that stuck out between pages like little mocking tongues. I had highlighted so much text that nothing stood out.
When I finally felt that I could calculate stopping distances at various speeds without the aid of a calculator, I booked the test.
The Swedish DMV has a great way to distract you from your nervousness while you’re in the waiting room. You get to use the harshly-lit self-service photo booth to take the picture that will appear on your license for the next 10 years.
You get three shots, and you pick the best of the three. Hmm. This was a tough decision. Did I want the one that looked like I had to pee really, really, badly? Or how about the one that looked as if I had just been notified I have syphillis? The third one was a possibility. It was just butt ugly—it looked as if I had awoken after a hard night of drinking and didn’t know where I was. By the time I pushed the ‘butt ugly’ button, it was test time.
A group of about 50 of us were ushered into the test hall. To make a long story at least a little shorter, 70 questions and 50 minutes later, I passed! That was one test down and two to go! I now had the first part of my boggitryck, um I mean hat trick. On to the slippery track and the road test!
*Boggitryck is the force that a vehicle imparts to the road at the point of its double-axel. Or something like that.
