Describe Your Best Day Ever

The question of the week at work was "What was your best day ever?" I am lucky in that I've had many best days and it's hard to select just one. The day I heard a marriage proposal was a good day, so was the wedding day, the days I found out I was pregnant, and the days my kids were born. But if I had to select one day that was the best ever, I would choose a day during my 18th year when I felt so happy I could almost walk on air. I felt a happiness so complete, so innocent and so unburdened by wisdom and knowledge that no other day compares. I speak of the day I got my driving license. Not everyone cherishes that rite of passage day like I did but I had special circumstances. To get my license, I was required to have purchased a car with which to take the test. I was eager to get my license the day I turned 16 but I had to buy a car first. And not just any junker, I had to buy a good car, a respectable car, and in cash. I saved and I saved, eventually coming up with the $1,500 it took to buy a decent car in those days. When you earn $1.25 per hour, it takes some time to save. By the time I was 18 I had the cash saved and I searched the classified ads every night. I found the car I wanted. A car owner on Larpenteur Avenue had a 1965 red Mustang for sale in my price range. I dragged a reluctant parent over there to make the purchase and he said, "This car has too much power for you." There was no questioning in those days. Even though it was my money and my future car, no Mustang was purchased. I can remember turning my head and watching my red mustang disappear from view as he drove away. Instead he found a 1968 Rambler American for sale at Countryside Volkswagon. He deemed this to be a good car for me. What the heck, I'd do almost anything to get behind the wheel. The car was purchased but I couldn't drive it home, I didn't have a license. The car was parked in the yard and there it sat. And sat. I'd take the bus to high school and come home and there was my car sitting in the yard. I'd pass it again as I left the house to walk the mile and a half to work. I'd pass my car again when I walked home from work. After what seemed like years but probably was only a week, I got the chance to take my driving test. I drove my car to the license center in Arden Hills where I promptly failed the test, earning only 59 points when I needed 70 or more. I was so very disappointed. I was back to walking past my car again to and from school; to and from work. I'd look out my bedroom window and stare at my car, aching with the desire to take it out on the road. Two long weeks went by before I got another chance to take the driving test. This time I got 98 points. I was happy but it wasn't until I dropped him off and was in my car alone that the superb happiness hit me. I had done it. I had taken every roadblock and turned it into a stepping stone. I was free! I was behind the wheel. I could go anywhere. I could do anything.