Reading Time: 3 minutes

A major turning point in my life was the day I failed the road portion of my driving test. I can’t believe that my simple mistake—knocking over a cone—ruined my chances of earning a driver’s license. Sure, I also knocked over a pedestrian that I mistook for a cone, but I guess the DMV doesn’t believe in second chances. On that day, I vowed to forge my own path, both in life and on the road. 

See those yellow lines in the parking lot? Those are merely suggestions. I never use them because that’s just society’s way of trapping me in a box. And besides, the only way I know how to turn off my car is by slowly driving into a mossy embankment. 

The only lines that I adhere to are the red, jagged lines I paint across the parking lot. These red lines encourage other cars to pave their own way like me. So what if they are unevenly spaced, intersect in “confusing” patterns, and cause minor traffic accidents? Minor traffic accidents are the reason I wake up in the morning. They give me purpose and whiplash. 

Before failing my driver’s test, my instructor warned me that playing race car games at the arcade was not an adequate substitution for in-car lessons. Well, joke’s on him: If it weren’t for race car games, how would I have been able to smash into his car? 

I bet he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. That’s why I’ve left a spritz of my AXE Anarchy body spray and a single strand of my hair. Good luck following my trail and begging for my insurance money, which I definitely do not have. The insurance company called me “an unprecedented liability,” whatever that means.

Unlike my instructor, I’m innovative. Not only do I take the road less traveled, I also take the road that no one has even thought about before. That’s why after smashing my instructor’s car, I boldly peel out in reverse and destroy the parking lot security camera with a baseball bat. Then, I exit the parking lot by cutting through the community garden. 

As for traffic lights, why bother? The only green light I wait for is my own green light. The one I’ve installed on the hood of my car. It rotates, as it sprays a thick layer of fog and blares the Cops theme song. It’s a song that brings me comfort, which is helpful on rainy days when I remember that I replaced my windshield wipers with footlong subs. 

Look, I may not have a driver’s license, but what I do have is originality. When I drive past you, you’ll know it was me because I’m the only one driving in the opposite direction on the highway. 

You’ll also know it was me because of my groundbreaking car. And I mean that literally. I glued titanium spikes to my tires so that as I drive, I crush the pavement beneath me. How has no one thought of this invention before? The only thing my driver instructor could invent is a bogus excuse to fail someone. 

Before I arrive at my destination— the local arcade — I make sure to parallel park. Sure, I may have knocked over one cone that one time, and hit multiple people on multiple different occasions, but I know how to parallel park. I line up my car horizontally, so I have plenty of room between these two parking spaces I’m taking up.

Nat Hrvatin is a humor writer whose work stems around whatever is currently fueling her anxiety. Her work has appeared on The Broadway Beat, Slackjaw, and The Belladonna Comedy, among others. Nat studied...