They call it a driver’s license. With this license, you are legally allowed to drive. It does not specify in the rules where you can drive. You can drive wherever you want. To the store. To Alaska. Running guns to rebels in Central America. They leave that up to you. The license gives you the freedom to move, as long as you have an instrument of movement. A vehicle.

To get this license, you must first take a test. This test will quiz you on all the keys to successful driving. It is like a mythical quest. It might be the toughest, most demanding, most psychologically grueling thing you ever do. Well, after childbirth, your first day of kindergarten, the SATs, the time you got caught with a cigarette and that time you fit the giant jawbreaker into your mouth and had to go to the ER so they could remove it with surgical tongs.

To pass this test, you must show a mastery of driving, including how to park on an incline. Forget that this seems kind of absurd because you live in a flat state where there hasn’t been an incline since 1952. That’s when someone decided to build a hill. Everyone’s ears popped from the elevation and they bulldozed it the next day. It’s been flat ever since.