A Brief Example of Why Maybe I Failed My Driver’s Test Twice, and Only Passed The Third Time Because the Cop Used to Work For My Dad

Catherine: I parked on a hill that was divided by a sort of weird road-blocky-thing, so right in front of my car was a cement block and a big fat yellow sign. I took the parking brake off, spun the wheels and pounded into reverse. Upon not moving, I pushed the gas harder.
Then I realized I was in drive, driving 30 miles an hour into the sign. Items scratched: The front of the car. My pride.
I am basically really dumb, that’s what I learned.
That’s all.
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