It’s Time to Drive… Thanks to Cerberus, Angelo, and the Marlboro Man

Roman days are filled with dry heat, hot wind, scarce humidity, and a clear-blue sky. When one stray cloud miraculously appears, you can follow the path of the tourists as they run to take advantage of the momentary shade. I’d like to stay indoors with the air conditioning, but I can’t. It’s time to drive, or at least time to face my Italian driving test.

The Italian weather service has actually named this latest heat dome, Cerberus. If you know Greek mythology, Cerberus was the watchdog over the gates of Hell. Seems appropriate right now. Italians never miss an opportunity to find poetic justice even with the weather.

I have spent most of the month with Cerberus at the gates of Hell behind the steering wheel of a subcompact Toyota Aygo with Angelo, my driving instructor.

After passing the written driver’s license exam the first of June, as I wrote about last month in my post on the Italian driver’s license theory exam, I returned from 10 days in Greece and threw myself into my 90-minute driving lessons with Angelo, my instructor from the autoscuola.

I had no idea I’d be driving around for hours under scorching skies with only a trickle of air conditioning coming from the car’s circulation system. Angelo, like many Italians, wasn’t a believer in high-powered cold air blowing into his face, as we fought to stave off Cerberus.

We’d start off rather comfortable for the first 15 or 20 minutes, but soon Angelo would roll down his window, and then start coughing madly. He blamed the air conditioning. I blamed his Marlboro Golds.

Six Hours Is a Lot of Time to Spend Together in the Car

Driving with Angelo was truly an experience. I cannot tell you how many new expressions I learned as Angelo screamed out the window when he disapproved of something another driver did. I was older than Angelo and seemed to have a better grasp of the rules of the road.

Every time he spotted a woman walking down the street or crossing the crosswalk, he reported out on their scoring. He would say, “Luca – guarda questa bella donna. Che ne pensi? Ma che meraviglia.” One time a woman crossed the crosswalk in a short skirt and literally no underwear as a breeze caught her skirt…and, well, you know the rest. I thought Angelo was going to jump out of the passenger seat. He couldn’t contain himself.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t having the same distractions he was. Although he reminded me often to, “Stai attento! Pay attention!” He had nothing to worry about.

Most of the time in the car we talked about living in America, politics in general, and how I could increase my vocabulary with a whole host of unsavory expressions. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy my lessons with Angelo, even though most of the time we just drove without any real discussion about actual driving knowledge.

It’s Time to Drive, but First This Commercial Break from Our Sponsor, Philip Morris

Last week, when temperatures hit their peak of 109 degrees, the hottest day in recorded history in Rome, I had an appointment to take my final Italian driving test along with a dozen or so other applicants.

It was no surprise that when I arrived at an industrial center in the northern part of Rome, that the exam would only begin after everyone had their cigarette break first. One thing I do enjoy in Italy is the unapologetic pleasure Italians have for coffee, wine, great food and cigarettes.

There I was, along with Angelo and fellow students, Giulia and Nicola, waiting underneath a highway overpass in the shade as the examiner from the Italian DMV smoked his cigarette along with the rest of the other attendees and told stories about his former students.

After months of waiting and years of anxiety, the best I could hope for was a relaxed driving examiner. I didn’t want to rush his smoke break, even though it was 109 degrees outside.

You’re Next Lombardo, It’s Time to Drive

Giulia and Nicola were substantially younger than me, like 35 years younger. They had celebration plans waiting for them once they passed their exam and leaped at the opportunity to be first and second.

Other than wanting to remove myself from the Cerberus environment under the overpass, I wasn’t in a rush. I hoped that the instructor would be far more forgiving with me after experiencing two teenagers.

So when both of the students returned from their driving exam and gleefully announced they had passed, I thought, “Well, come on, Luke. You got this…right?”

The truth was, my only concern about the driving test was the language. I was worried that I would misinterpret instructions, or forget a term about the car.

I learned a lot of car vocabulary. The parabrezza is the windshield. Anabbaglianti and abbaglianti are low-beams and high-beams. Freno stazionamento is the emergency brake.

I climbed into the driver’s seat, with Angelo my instructor in the passenger seat, and the examiner wedged into the micro-sized back seat with his knees almost at chest level.

In my head, I was seeing a “Driving Miss Daisy” experience, with me playing the role of Morgan Freeman. My instructor squeezed in the backseat was a poor representation of Jessica Tandy.

I pulled the humility card and asked the examiner, “I may need to ask for clarification on words and phrases, is that ok to do?”

He smiled and said, “Stia tranquillo. Non ci sono sorprese. Stay tranquil, there are no surprises.”

We began our course.

I Am Now Free to Roam About the Continent (In a Very Small Car)

Four years of anxiety, fear and worry about passing the exam in Italian, dissolved in four minutes. The driving examiner finished his last question about the radiator cooling fluid, fluido di raffreddamento. He tapped me on the shoulder from behind, and simply said, “Signor Lombardo, complimenti. Perfetto.”

After the exam, if you pass, they immediately hand you your license. It seems too easy compared to so many other administrative difficulties one encounters in daily life. It’s anticlimactic after all of the worrying, studying, practice tests and stress.

It’s not my first choice for a new car at 53 years old, but it will serve just fine. It will take me anywhere I want to go in Italy and beyond. I feel a road-trip coming. Ready…set…go. It’s time to drive!

What to Expect on the Italian Driving Test

If you’re preparing for your own Italian driving test, here’s what I wish I’d known going in:

• Book your driving lessons early. I needed six hours of lessons with a driving school before the test. The requirement has since increased to eight hours, including night, extra-urban and motorway driving.
• You won’t be alone in the car. Your instructor from the driving school sits in the passenger seat, and the examiner rides in the back.
• It’s OK to ask for clarification. The test is in Italian, but my examiner was happy to repeat or explain instructions when I asked.
• Know your car vocabulary. My examiner also asked me about parts of the car, like the cooling fluid (fluido di raffreddamento). Learn terms like windshield (parabrezza), high beams (abbaglianti) and emergency brake (freno stazionamento).
• The result is immediate. If you pass the Italian driving test, you’re handed your license on the spot.

However and wherever your summer vacation plans take you, I hope you enjoy them. And, If you’re taking a road-trip, I’d love to know where you’re going. Thanks for following The Spaghetti Diaries. If you’d like to subscribe and automatically receive my updates, please enter your email below. I wish you a wonderfully cool and beautiful summer.