TOWNSHEND — I went off to tech school without a driver's license. This was a real problem; luckily, a guy at the school took it upon himself to teach me to drive.
Not wanting to waste any time, Worm decreed that we should start immediately. He would crack open a beer, take a big swallow, and say, "OK, it's your turn to drive."
When he decided that I had gained minimal competence we headed across the bridge to Canada. In some ways New Brunswick was the ideal place to learn to drive. There was little traffic, no cops, and plenty of parking.
It bothered me that the speed limit was posted in kilometers.
"Don't worry, that metric stuff is the same," Worm said with the easy assurance of someone on his fourth beer.
"Really?"
"Yeah, no problem. It's all the same."
Worm had me stop at the package store next to a fish pier. He went in and bought a case of beer. Half an hour later, Worm slumped over in the seat next to me, passed out cold. A sea of empty beer bottles rolled on the floor beneath our feet.
At some point something clicked in my head, and it occurred to me that we might be in trouble if the Mounties pulled us over. I was driving in Canada without a license. The guy teaching me to drive was passed out cold, a half-empty case of Canadian beer in his lap.
Not knowing what else to do, I cruised around until Worm sobered up enough to cross the border.
A couple of months later I passed the drivers test, proving perhaps that not all the best teachers are found inside schools.