National Car Test


By Lyn Hagin Meade

Car tests,

The leaving cert all over again

But I forgot to study

And the wrong questions came up.


My stomach churns as I sit behind the glass

Like in the maternity nursery

Seeking out my baby

“Yes, that’s mine there – the silver one”

Being rocked too and fro ten feet in the air.


A frowning mechanic, intent on calibrating figures

Makes me nervous

Is it terminal?

“What’s your registration” he asks,

And I can’t remember in my agitation.

Waiting for the results

Is like scratching a lottery ticket.


I sit in the car and shake afterwards.

Passed for this year.


The woman I sat beside earlier

Goes by my window and we don’t acknowledge

Each other. Our mutual support group

Was fleeting

For the length of time it took

To certify I can spend another year on the road.


Copyright © 2018 Lyn Hagin Meade, All Rights Reserved.