Within a month’s time, I have taken two driver’s license tests in two countries and passed both. But not exactly “with flying colors.”

My California driver’s license expired on April 10 and I tried unsuccessfully to line up an appointment to renew it in person. I just turned 74 and needed to take a new photo and the written test (and I incorrectly assumed that I’d need the driving one, too).

The problem was two-fold: My phone number is from Mexico and the DMV will not allow foreign numbers when you try to sign into the system. After repeated attempts and working with a human (I think) who promised to send me an access form to fill out and send back – he/it didn’t — I lost interest.

Which is the second of the two-folds: At my age, I just don’t care enough to battle bureaucracies. At this point, life really is too short. That’s not a cliche. Also, I have not owned a car in more than 12 years. Unless you count a beat-up golf cart (Moncho 65) on a Caribbean island for a couple of years. 

Besides, I had Plan B ready. 

In my current state of residence, Guanajuato, Mexico, a driver’s license is easy to get if you have one from another country. … one that isn’t expired.

I wish I’d thought of Plan B sooner.

Because my license was expired, I now had to take a written test and a road test here in San Miguel de Allende. You can take the 30-question multiple-choice test in English. But you need to know your “Izquierda desde tu derecha” to pass the road test. Other than the written test, all business is conducted in Spanish. As it should be.

There are people here who work as “guides” to shepherd gringos like me through the process. They make appointments, coach you in procedures, manage expectations, and – until two weeks before I went in – acted as interpreters. The guides are now barred from entering the local DMV office with a client. I had to manage with my own woefully inadequate Spanish.

I didn’t do badly. Until it came to the test. That, I did badly. 

I studied. I really studied. Both in English and Spanish.

The problem was part cultural: When an emergency vehicle pulls up behind you with lights and sirens on, the correct response is to “pray for them and pull over.” I didn’t expect that. Many questions had to do with your demeanor while driving. Calmness, cooperation, and friendliness are correct answers and encouraged, if not exactly incorporated into the law.

The problem was also partly translation. I think the English test was created with the very first iteration of Google Translate, with all its shortcomings. And it hasn’t been updated since.

For example: The two ways to park a car are “Ribbon and drum” and not “Angle and box.” There were two more options which were even less clear.

Believe me, I’m not making fun of this nor disparaging the test. My Spanish should be good enough to take the test in the native language. It may be and I just lacked the confidence.  I don’t know. 

I came back a week later and aced it. I simply broadened my range of research beyond the state driver’s manual and opened my mind to the cultural realities.

As for the driving part, my “coach” loaned me his car, a stick shift, and guided me around the likely course. I also popped the hood and learned the locations of all vehicle fluids, studied the dashboard symbols, buckled up and asked my passengers to do the same, and looked both ways. And learned to not drive over speed bumps too forcefully.

All are part of the driving test.

Which I aced the first time.

The DMV staff was extremely nice, unfailingly helpful and patient. After the tests, an eye scan, a voice print, a photograph, fingerprinting, and the collection of vital statistics — my high-tech imprinted driver’s license was handed to me by the same staffer who had been shepherding me through the various steps.

Lapsed time, about two hours.

With my new Mexico driver’s license, I was able to rent a car in San Diego and drive to the California DMV in Oceanside. Even though my California license had expired, the DMV looked upon it as a renewal. If I wasn’t due for the mandatory written test, I might have been in and out in a couple of hours.

Again, I really studied for the test — by taking multiple multiple-choice sample tests online. I did well on them, too. My son and daughter-in-law Ryan and Larisa helped. We made a game of it, sipping red wine and inhaling the ocean breeze while they quizzed me.

I didn’t pass. 

The clerk monitoring the test pointed out the rack at the entrance, filled with hard copies of the driving manual, something I didn’t notice on arrival. 

“Why don’t you grab one and try again later,” he suggested.

I sat in my rental with the AC running and a cup of coffee on the dash and underlined the hell out of that book. The test had been all about numbers and traffic signs – speed limits, distances between cars, parking distance to crosswalks, weights, alcohol levels, school zones,  legal penalties, and fines. I filled four notebook pages with numbers and their meanings.

An hour later I walked straight up to the kiosk and answered 29 of the 30 questions correctly.

Twenty minutes later I walked out with a temporary license. The original arrived last week.

It took about four hours in total.

Appointments speed the whole process up. Although, curiously, the DMV stations one person to sort all incoming traffic into appointments, non-appointments, and continuing business. One person. And she has all the charm of Minerva McGonagall during the Sorting Hat ceremony in “Harry Potter.”

Which explains the line running outside the door.

What a traffic engineer calls a bottleneck.

After the bottleneck lady, DMV staffers were patient, helpful, and sympathetic.

The bottleneck lady was mostly neutral — unless you spoke only Spanish. She had no patience for Spanish speakers. The young guy who interpreted, however, was first-rate. He guided people through the process, showed them how to use the kiosks, and kept them on task.

In neither Guanajuato nor California did I encounter the stereotypical obtuse and angry bureaucrat. Every person with whom I interacted was helpful – and often encouraging. Smiles were met with smiles. Kind words with kind words. Each process has its quirks but with some modest research, each can be navigated without trauma.

There is no substitute for studying for the exams. Logic and memory take you only so far. And personal experience is a landmine. Just because you have been driving for 50 years, doesn’t mean you know the rules of the road.

Appointments get you in and out quickly. Non-appointments get you into lots of conversations with unhappy people in the waiting queue.

So, now I have two licenses, no car, and no burning desire to drive. 

I also picked up a library card while in the States. I may end up using that more than a driver’s license.