After being turned away from the dreaded DMV for lacking the right birth certificate, I walk into the barren permit testing center yet again. I go around to the counter, facing the same terrifying woman, and tell her I would like to take my permit test. She gathers my information and I head nervously to the computer. I barely pass, missing five questions with a limit of six. As very specifically instructed, I sit in the front row of chairs and wait until she calls me up. She tests my vision and informs me that I was “pushing the envelope” with my eyesight. Finally, she takes what turns out to be a horrible picture with my eyes half closed. I had never been so excited.

This being the story of getting my permit, I was definitely more thrilled than your average teen. I had been waiting months to go and I was determined to pass on the first try, and that I did.

Over the summer I got my first “real” job working as a lifeguard. By real, I mean my first job that took taxes out of my paycheck. As ecstatic as I was to get a check in the mail every two weeks, I was not exhilarated by the tax deductions. The thing that plagued me most was my mom, dad or neighbor having to be the one to drive me the 15 minutes to my work. I haven’t even gotten to what I thought was the worst part. My very patient father would have my sister yell at me from the fence outside the pool as I put away lane lines, humiliating me completely. Not only did this embarrass me in front of my co-workers, but also in front of my boss. Every time they ran late, forgot to pick me up, or yelled at me from the fence, I wished I had a time machine to take me to my 16th birthday.

Not only did this keep me from being able to drive myself to work, it kept me from hanging out with my work friends after. Not that they did anything too exciting, mostly just getting dinner and playing Pokemón Go. I still liked to join them when I could organize a ride. The obvious solution would be carpooling, but it felt like too much to ask one of my friends to drive me the 15, sometimes 20 minutes home.

On the bright side, I have six months left before my mom will force me to drive my siblings places, go to the store and pay for my own gas.