Chapter 4: The Driving Test
The next morning, Peter took Chris to the department of motor vehicles to get his license. Chris's appointment for the driving lesson had already been set, so all he had to do was to wait for the driving teacher to show up. Peter and Chris waited about 20 minutes before the instructor finally showed up and called Chris over to the car to drive. The car was a navy blue Ford Taurus, and it looked like it came from the early '90s or so.
Chris got inside the driver's seat, and the instructor sat in the front passenger's seat. "Okay, Mr…" he started, looking at his clipboard and spotted Chris's name, "…Griffin, Christopher Cross." He cleared his throat. "Christopher. How are we today?"
"It's Chris, actually, and I'm fine," Chris said.
"That's good," the instructor said. "Now, fasten your seatbelt, check your mirrors, and put your hands on the wheel for me." Chris did everything the instructor asked for. However, his hands were incorrectly placed on the wheel. "Son, you might want to readjust your hands on the wheel for better control."
"Yes, sir," Chris said, raising his hands up on the wheel.
"Okay, now, start the car," the instructor said.
Chris made the sound of the car starting, and then, he began to make loud motor noises, during which, he spit everywhere, even on the instructor.
"What are you doing, Chris?" the instructor asked.
"I'm driving," Chris said.
"No, you're not. You have to start the car to do that," the instructor said.
"Oh, okay," Chris said. He then started the car. He then shifted the car into reverse, completely unaware that a cement fence was behind them. He mashed the accelerator.
"No, NO!" cried the instructor, as the car burst through the fence. Large chunks of cement rained on the car, scraping it, cracking the windshield, and bending the radio antenna. Chris didn't stop, though. He kept going backwards and crashed into several cars, but he didn't stop there. He even revved back into many office buildings and skyscrapers.
Chris finally ended up in a parking garage, where he quickly shifted gears and finally drove forward. He still floored the car while doing so, taking the car at 100 miles per hour. "Stop, stop!" pleaded the instructor. However, Chris giggled and imitated the powerful motor noises of the car as he bolted down the many roads. He drove onto the interstate, weaving in and out of cars by sheer luck (truth is, he didn't have the slightest clue what he was doing). All the cars on the road honked their horns loudly and repeatedly to protest Chris's careless driving.
But the worst was yet to come. Chris was in an acceleration lane, where it merged in with the main interstate lanes. Chris did not try to merge in with the main lane ahead of time, and a big tractor trailer was barreling close to the point where the lanes merged. The driving instructor screamed as the Taurus and the truck came close.
Suddenly, the truck and the Taurus blew up. The tires from the Taurus shot up in the air, as well as lots of smoke and fire. Glass shards rained all over and were ever present. Chris flew out of the car unharmed, and suddenly got snagged onto the legs of a helicopter. The helicopter started sinking, due to the fact that Chris weighted it down.
Inside, the two pilots noticed the drop in altitude of the helicopter. "We've dropped 10 feet in altitude!" cried the first pilot.
"Yeah," the second pilot said. "The performance of the copter is going down, and it's using up a lot more gas just to stay afloat. There's only one reason for this…"
"What?" the first pilot asked.
"There must be a fat kid on our copter." He then got out and saw Chris. "Ah ha! Get the hell off, fatty!" he said sliding Chris's shirt off the helicopter leg, which is what held him to the helicopter in the first place. Chris yelled for help as he fell down to the department of motor vehicles. The second pilot went back inside. "See, I told you."
"Really? How often do fat kids ever get stuck to helicopters, anyway?" the first pilot wondered.
Meanwhile, Chris crashed hard into the ground, and Peter ran over to help him. "Chris, Chris! Are you okay, buddy?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Dad," a muffled voice said from underneath.
"Oh, that's good. Did you pass?" Peter asked.
"I don't think so, Dad," Chris said.
"Oh, that stinks, I'm sorry," Peter said. He thought for a moment. "Hey, I know! There might still be a way for you to get your license after all." Chris got out from the crater and smiled in excitement.