I missed the perfect opportunity to use the words “poodoo doll”.

Guess what folks? I’m an officially licensed driver in Canada. That’s right, you could be stuck behind me in traffic, angrily blaring your horn and you wouldn’t even know it. I’m free to make shitty decisions then try and dismiss my assholery with a meek wave. I can once again pilot a hulking death engine, endangering the lives of passers-by all so I can be in different places quicker than I would otherwise. Let’s be honest, it’s an excuse to leave late, right? Who are all these people walking out their front door with reasonable expectations of how long a journey will take? I’m not sure they exist. It’s all about compensating for your lack of time management by making your lateness the problem of everyone else on the road.

Or, I guess, people who want to go to big box stores. Wait, did I just give myself reason to get a Costco membership? Did I even need an excuse to buy my body weight in peanut butter? I wonder how much that would cost…

Also if I ate nothing but peanut butter until I’d finished said body weight stock (barring death by scurvy) and kept every dropping of poonut butter, could I then create a literal interpretation of what I’d be like as a total piece of shit? Who would’ve thought getting my driver’s licence would lead me to making a terrible crack about skid marks?

In truth, having a licence here will be primarily ceremonial. I’m not planning on buying a car any time soon. Given that I very rarely leave the downtown core, public transport gets me where I need to go. I don’t have to deal with the stress of being stuck in traffic. I also sidestep the apparent wretchedness of Toronto drivers (or elsewise become one).Why then was I so intent on getting this card in the first place?

In part, pride. I worked hard on getting my licence back home. Lesson after lesson, test after test. I drove for years, building up experience and working to become a safe, conscientious driver. To have all that time and effort negated by geographical borders felt, well, a little bureaucratic. I bristled a little at the notion that my achievements were diminished. It felt shitty that previous to February 2015 there was no recourse for NZ drivers who’d immigrated but to go through the system all over again. Especially since Australia had no problem doing so.

More than any petty anti-authoritarian motive, access to freedom of movement is amazing. If I decide that I want to go travel greater Ontario (or Canada at large if I’m feeling saucy) I can. I can legally drive through America without having to grab an International Driver’s Permit. In the event of moving house, I can rent a van and do things on my time. Once again, Costco is now a viable option for some good ol’ fashioned Extreme Couponing style shenanigans.

Oh the hotdogs I will have.



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