Greentext of a repressed high school memory
>Be me, learning how to drive
>Need to go to driving school
>My road instructor is this guy with a turban that looks like a giant worm on his head
>Apparently he's a reggae musician, on the down low he teaches driving for some reason
>Inside my head I refer to him as 'The Wizard'
>Get inside the practice car, it's dirty as fuck
>like chip bags, mcdonalds burger boxes, soda cans
>wtf
>while driving I said a story calling a guy a fag during class, he laughs and he offers to get me a soda
>nice
>We stop by a gas station in another city, he gets a slurpee
>his sister calls, he picks up and his sister needs advice in her relationship
>he asks me for advice, I said maybe they should talk, he complains that my generation needs more action
>he complains about his two girlfriends, one in new york, and another in california. He hopes they don't meet each other