Eight people were already in line outside the Albany DMV office at 7:56 a.m. today when I pulled up. I sat in the car for a minute or two, then realized I’d better get in line, too.

The guy who unlocked the door at 8:01 a.m. was Efficiency itself. We lined up in front of the take-a-number machine and he asked each in turn, “What are we doing for you today?” When it was my turn, I tried to be audible without attracting anyone else’s attention. “Motorcycle instruction permit,” I said. “First time?” he asked. I nodded. “Fill out this form.”

This was my second trip to DMV this calendar year. I had to renew my driver license in the spring, surrendering an eight-year-old, really nice photo and leaving with one that looked like it should belong to someone who’d just been denied parole — again.

I came armed with all the same documents this time — passport, Social Security card, utility bill, driver’s license, checkbook. The only thing they checked was the driver license before sitting me at Test Terminal No. 4 for the motorcycle written exam.

I had read through the manual at home one and a half times. I was trying to get through the section on how to deal with a wobble while waiting for my number to be called this morning but the blaring country music on the office PA system distracted me. I had to hope that 40 years of wreckless driving plus at least 20,000 miles on a bicycle in four states and five countries would see me through. Funny, but I didn’t hear the Grand Ol’ Opry at all while I concentrated on the photos and multiple-choice questions on the touch screen.

I passed the test. I wrote a check for $22.50, and I smiled for the camera. I sent Stan a text message.

Exit, the Dragon Lady.

Two weeks ago, Stan came home with a bright red Vespa scooter for me. The Vespa web site calls the color dragon red. I call it Couldn’t-Be-More Red. It’s got chrome and a windshield and a trunk and it’s gorgeous. I love it. Now I have to learn to ride it.

We took it for a test spin in the South Albany High School parking lot one evening after work last week. It was easier to ride than I’d expected; not quite like starting at Square One. All those miles of pedalling two wheels helped. Hauling 350 pounds up and onto its center stand is a bit harder. Got to work on the upper body strength part.

This weekend, I’ll start my official home schooling: I kind of wish I had one of those big red “L” signs that learning drivers in England hang on their cars. I’ll sign up for the Team Oregon training soon. A former police motorcycle officer told me recently that he thought he really knew how to ride a motorcycle until he took that class.

I think I’ll tell Mom after she’s passed her test.