I realize it's the biggest cliche in the world to be a New Yorker without a driver's license. And for years I never gave it much thought, because I never needed one. There was always someone to hop a ride with.
I've had a license before. I got one when I was 17, a year later than most people, but it expired a number of years ago and New York makes you go through the whole song of dance of written tests and classroom enlightenment if you want another one. Admittedly, I've never been very good or interested in driving. But I am interested in having a Vespa, and in order to drive one everything needs to be above board.
The road test in June is next, in White Plains, the day before my learner permit expires. Lessons, much like the ones I took when I was 17, are also on tap. And yet I'm strangely excited.
