I've confirmed it. My memories of the past year are not those of this realm.
This won't be news to you, but I just discovered how common hovercrafts recently became. Real, honest-to-greatness flying cars. The stuff we all dreamed of as children is the stuff today's children take for granted.
Memories of eagerly awaiting my sixteenth birthday for the chance to finally get my driver's license. (Yes, my memories.)
Memories of my first driving test, coinciding with my realization of the existence (and ubiquity) of chupacabras. That which I had previously refused to see now flooded my vision.
One can never prepare for the trauma that occurs the first time one makes eye contact with a chupacabra. One can never recover from beholding such a hideous countenance.
Amazingly, I was able to force myself to concentrate on driving. Of course I didn't pass the test. Chupacabras, like all mammals, like to cross the road as cars approach them. If an animal dashes in front of your car, you swerve to avoid hitting it, don't you?
Naturally, my instructor refused to see the chupacabras. To him, I was swerving for no reason despite being told to stop. How could I tell him what I was doing?
I made up my mind to keep going. For the sake of earning my driver's license, I was willing to run over one chupacabra. If he's stupid enough to get in the way of an oncoming car, he deserves to be run down.
But I couldn't do it. I'll never know how I developed compassion for such a creature, but I reflexively swerved at the last minute. I failed the test.
I've never attempted to earn a driver's license since then. Public transportation may not be as convenient as owning a car, but it gets me where I need to go.
Today I learned that, as hovercars are twice as safe as regular cars, the required age of the driver has been cut in half: you can earn your hovercraft license at age eight.
And fortunately for me, they can hover. Float. Soar over a chupacabra without as much as a bump.
A new door has opened for me. Wish me luck.
