Disclaimer: Kids... Don't try this at home. ;)
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Mr. Thibodeaux sighed and shifted slightly in the co-driver's seat as the car was parked outside his driving school. The procedure was painstakingly slow, as usual, and it took a lot of willpower in him to stifle a yawn.
It was, all in all, another routine-filled day.
Let it be said that Mr. Thibodeaux didn't despise his job. It just didn't excite him all that much either. Every day, from dawn till dusk, he had to do the same thing over and over again, like some sort of machine. Give instructions, assess… then write one word in the form that he always carried with him.
Pass…or Fail.
"I'm sorry, Miss Johnson, you didn't switch on the indicator when you made a right turn," he said in a bored monotone.
Miss Johnson, a petite girl that was barely sixteen-years-old, burst into tears.
"It's all right, Miss Johnson," Mr. Thibodeaux said, taking out of his thin brown jacket a napkin and handed it to her with practised ease. "You're just going to have to try harder next time."
Miss Johnson didn't have the luxury to say anything. She just kept crying, and didn't bother to stop even after she got out of the car.
Honestly, it seemed to Mr. Thibodeaux that women made the worst examinees when it came to driving. One wrong word and it was enough to make the waterworks start. And then, of course, they would run to their mommies and daddies so as to tell them how the big, mean examiner treated them like trash.
On the other hand, there were also those boys that were simply offended when Mr. Thibodeaux pointed out to them that, yes, the other driver had priority, and the stop sign clearly said so. And then they would declare to their parents that the examiner didn't know squat about driving.
Come to think of it, Mr. Thibodeaux decided that there was hardly any difference between the genders whatsoever.
It was while Mr. Thibodeaux was in the middle of making those kind of musings that the driver's door opened and a young brown-haired boy entered the car.
"Well… Hello. I'm here for the driver's license exam."
Mr. Thibodeaux wouldn't have guessed.
"Of course you are, Mr… uh…" Mr. Thibodeaux looked at his forms until he found the one he had been looking for. "Ah, yes. This is the first time you take this exam?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right," Mr. Thibodeaux said. "Now, before we begin, you have to make sure that…"
But the teen had already started checking the mirrors, the light and the brakes. Mr. Thibodeaux watched in mild surprise as the teen finished with that preliminary testing with quite the experienced ease.
"Did I forget anything?" the teen asked.
Mr. Thibodeaux shook his head. "No, no… You did everything correctly." He cleared his throat and sat back. "Now… do you remember the first thing we do before we set off?"
The teen nodded and buckled up.
"Very good," Mr. Thibodeaux commented, feeling that this time the exam would go smoothly for a change. "And what's next?"
"I turn on the alarms and then check for any passing cars before I drive off."
"Yes. Now look carefully and, when you feel ready, you can--"
Mr. Thibodeaux never managed to finish his sentence, because it was then that the car left with the speed of a rocket launcher. Mr. Thibodeaux's forms got thrown on the floor, whereas Mr. Thibodeaux himself found himself pressed against his seat, mouth hanging open and eyes wide in shock.
"There's a speed limit, you know!"
"Yes, I know. 60 miles per hour," the teen said calmly.
Mr. Thibodeaux blinked and looked at the speed gauge.
They were going at 60 miles per hour. Not a mile more… but not a mile less either.
Mr. Thibodeaux started feeling ill.
"You forgot your seatbelt."
"What?" Mr. Thibodeaux asked. He couldn't hear all that well because of the roar of the engine and the wind whooshing by the windows.
"You forgot your seatbelt," the teen said again, looking at Mr. Thibodeaux's direction and pointing.
"Eyes on the road!" Mr. Thibodeaux exclaimed.
"But the seatbelt--"
"All right, all right!" Mr. Thibodeaux tugged the seatbelt and quickly buckled himself.
Not a moment too soon. The teen had put on the brakes and stopped at a red light at the very last minute, which meant that Mr. Thibodeaux barely escaped getting himself thrown at the dashboard.
"Young man, just what are you--?"
But luck wasn't on Mr. Thibodeaux's side today, apparently, because it was then that the traffic light switched to green.
This time, Mr. Thibodeaux actually managed to let out a yelp of shock before the car took off again at top-speed.
"Maybe you should just--"
"There are some cars ahead that go rather slow. I should overtake them," the teen said.
"There's a truck coming from the opposite lane."
"There is time."
"No, there isn't."
"It's quite fine."
"But--!"
Mr. Thibodeaux braced himself as the teen switched on the indicator and overtook not just one car, but four cars before returning to the correct lane. And Mr. Thibodeaux actually started saying mentally every prayer of every religion he could recall (and then some), as he saw that the truck didn't prove that much of a threat after all.
That didn't alter the fact that they were going too fast.
Especially when the teen started getting dangerously close to a…
"TURN!"
The teen didn't so much as bat an eyelid as he turned left at full-throttle and continued driving as though nothing happened.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worse had yet to come, because the boy still had to park.
The sound of screeching covered Mr. Thibodeaux's scream of fright.
"Sorry. I almost missed it there."
And at the next moment, Mr. Thibodeaux was forced forward as the teen put on the reverse and sped backwards to park with one fluid motion right in front of the driving school.
A minute passed… then two…
Three minutes later, Mr. Thibodeaux decided he could breathe again. He took off his glasses with trembling fingers and took out of his pocket a napkin to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
"Um… Pardon my asking, but…" Mr. Thibodeaux licked his dried lips and then continued, "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"
The teen shrugged. "No, not really. Most of my friends drive like that though."
"Your friends?" Mr. Thibodeaux echoed, positively mortified.
"Yeah," the teen answered, as though he was stating the most obvious thing in the world. "There's one of them."
Mr. Thibodeaux turned at the direction the teen pointed – and at the next moment he felt like his jaw fell on the floor. For the boy's 'friend' turned out to be a giant yellow robot who waved at them with quite the big smile before transforming to a Volkswagen Beetle.
"I see…" Mr. Thibodeaux breathed out.
At the next instant, he grabbed the discarded forms and frantically searched for a specific one. As soon as he found it, he wrote three words only.
Spike Witwicky… Pass.
Mr. Thibodeaux didn't need today's excitement twice, after all.
The End
A/n: Yeah... The Autobots seem to have a bad influence on Spike. :p