My husband has finally gotten his license to drive. That seems ridiculous, doesn’t it? A 31-year-old man getting a driver’s license? Well, getting a license in
No, getting a driver’s license isn’t a cultural rite of passage in
Since we live in the center of Thessaloniki and can pretty much walk to wherever we want to go, and take the bus anywhere else, our car has sat idle for two years (and with a dead battery), even though I have a valid driver’s license. But with our imminent move to the boondocks, and my husband’s future hospital off the ring road instead of in the city center, it was crucial that he finally get his driver’s license, unless he wanted to spend hours upon hours of his life in city buses (with me having to get up early to drive him down to the closest bus stop, which is so far from our house it conjures up the old tales of “when I was your age, I had to walk twenty miles in a blizzard to get to school”). Besides, I hate driving, or rather, I hate driving in places I am not used to driving, which is basically anywhere I haven’t been before. I got to be a bit of a pro driving around
My husband still has a two-month reprieve before all the responsibility falls on his shoulders, as that is how long it takes for them to actually process and send you your license here. But at least he now has the satisfaction of an American teenager, ready to taste freedom behind the wheel of his very own car.