Why I Wanted to Fail My Driving Test

I passed my driving test.

Before taking it for the second time, I had about an hour to spare, so I sat in the lobby of the test center and meditated for a while, quietly trying to look deeper into myself.

The truth was, I could already drive well enough. I had practiced plenty, reviewed my mistakes several times, and even gotten used to driving an actual car. At that point, the amount of practice was no longer the problem.

Whenever people told me, “You’ll do well. You’ll pass,” I would automatically say things like:

“Even if I fail, I can just take it again.”

“I’ll just think of the test itself as more driving practice.”

“My real goal isn’t getting the license anyway. It’s learning how to drive.”

Then someone said something to me.

“Why are you already thinking about failing? Of course you can take it again if you fail, but for now, think about passing.”

That was when I realized, Oh, I really am doing that.

And I did fail that test, which is why I was there to take it again.

Before my second attempt, I imagined myself driving during the test. As I did, I noticed a feeling that had been so subtle and so carefully hidden that I had never really seen it before.

It wasn’t just that I imagined myself failing.

Somewhere inside, I was actually wishing, “Please let me fail.”

When I approached the dilemma zone at an intersection, part of me almost hoped the light would turn yellow. I found myself waiting for a situation where I would have to brake suddenly. Consciously, of course, I wanted to pass. But there had always been this tiny thread of resistance following me around, and I had never understood what it was.

So why was it there?

As long as I kept failing, I could safely remain someone who was still trying.

I was afraid of the new possibilities that success would bring. Passing the test could mean driving in California, for example. Beyond that, it could mean becoming someone who could move around freely on her own.

Driving had always felt like something outside my territory. As long as I did not fully step into that unfamiliar territory, I could stay safely where I was. I could remain “someone who is trying” without having to take responsibility for what came after success.

And perhaps I was also protecting another identity I had quietly held onto for a long time: someone who simply wasn’t good at driving.

Once I realized this, I thought that a mind pulling in different directions could never fully support the goal of passing.

So I decided to think differently.

“I have to pass today.”

“Just focus on what you need to do to pass.”

“It’s good to keep trying, but today, do it well. You can do this.”

A little later, I got up to get some water. By coincidence, the water dispenser was right in front of the counter where successful applicants waited to receive their driver’s licenses.

I looked at it and wondered:

Could I be standing here later today, waiting for my license too?

For a moment, I pictured it.

Of course I was nervous during the test. I made a few small mistakes too. Whenever the examiner sitting beside me cleared his throat or shuffled through his papers, I became anxious.

Whenever that happened, I told myself:

I can still focus even if I’m nervous.

Even if I just made a mistake, I can focus again right away.

I can simply do what I learned and trust what my body already knows.

I managed not to lose my concentration, even while feeling nervous.

This time, instead of thinking, “It doesn’t matter if I fail,” I decided to do everything I could until the very end to get the result I actually wanted.

Eventually, I made it safely back to the test center.

The examiner told me I had passed and congratulated me. The friendly girl who had ridden along as an observer congratulated me too.

My skills and effort had already been enough.

Once I stopped putting the brakes on myself mentally, everything suddenly felt almost surprisingly easy. And soon enough, I found myself standing in the exact place I had imagined earlier, waiting to receive my driver’s license.

I couldn’t quite believe that I had actually gotten my license. Life really does surprise you sometimes.

But the excitement quickly became quiet.

Part of me thought, Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal after all.

Or maybe it simply felt like something that was supposed to happen had finally happened.

Getting my driver’s license had actually been one of my goals for this year. I had achieved it, and yet the feeling that came over me was not overwhelming happiness. It was something quieter—slightly empty, slightly joyful.

For two months, I practiced steadily with a clear goal in mind. During the test, I stayed focused, and in the end, I achieved what I had set out to do.

There was no dazzling sense of triumph.

More than anything, I just wanted to go home, eat something delicious, and watch Netflix.