Thursday, February 4, 2010


Our truck broke down. It can't break down at a convenient time. Daniel has a DZ test booked for tomorrow. Mechanic Rick says there's been a delay, and the truck won't be ready until 10 am. The test is scheduled for 10 am in Clinton. The truck is in Embro. Sigh.

In order to phone and reschedule a drive test, you look up the phone number in the phone book. A computer answers and says, this number is no longer a valid phone number.

You sigh.

You phone the poor woman at the MTO Drivers' License place. She gives you an 888 number. For future reference, it is 1-888-570-6110. A computer answers. It sounds suspiciously like a Frenchman. He gives you options. French or English? Reschedule or Book? Information? You press buttons that go nowhere but back to the original menu. It insists you must type in your license number before it will transfer you to an agent. You do. It doesn't. It hangs up on you.

After it happens three times, necessitating that you must listen to the Frenchman and the same incessant choices all over again, then endure the sound of the dial tone, you phone the stinkin' MP's office to complain.

Then, you drive to Clinton to rebook the appointment.

Too bad for you. You aren't giving 48 hours' notice, so you lose the fees you paid. Oh, and you can rebook, but not until you've cancelled the first one. Don't you think you can borrow a truck somewhere?

You complain about the computer Frenchman. Matt at the DriveTest place tries the phone number and gets right through. It turns out there's a secret code that works.

Sigh. Why can't it be that simple for the general public?

So, you phone your husband and he calls the Truck Repair place. The mechanic says he'll try to get a truck.

You get home. Still no truck. You are told to rebook.


You talk to a woman. She cannot book a new appointment over the phone. She can't take a credit card payment. Oh, and are you aware that you'll lose the $75 you already paid?


But there's nothing I can do, she tells me.

By this time I am blowing a gasket. I am on death's door with the frustration level.

Rick phones Rick, the Mechanic. He says "give me a minute". I think we should go ahead and cancel and take our chances rebooking in London. I am freaking out.

The phone rings. It's Rick the Mechanic, who has a truck for us to borrow. We have to drive to Embro, pick up the truck, drive to Clinton, pass the test, drive back to Embro, drop off the truck, pick up our own truck and do the route. Too much stress for one old Granny. But that's what we're going to do.

Here's the secret code:

Phone 888-570-6110.
When Frenchman starts talking, press 1.
Say, "Drivetest".
It will pause, then start another list of options. Say "Drivetest" again. Don't be afraid to interrupt. It's a stinkin' French computer. It will pause again slightly.
Say "Clinton".
It will ask if you mean "Clinton".
Say "YES" but try not to yell.
It will start talking. Interrupt. Say "transfer".

Halleluiah. It will Ring in Clinton. Talk to Matt. He's the only one with half a brain there.

Short version:

Don't expect anything to go well. But that will get you through.


  1. Same old B.S.when the gov is in on it;)

  2. It's always annoying to deal with drivetests, isn't it??

    I'm glad you could at least borrow a truck. I'll be praying for Daniel to PASS so you won't have to go through this again. ;)

  3. Wow.

    Quite the day.

    He better pass that test.

  4. And....

    He didn't.


    We have to do this all over again on the 15th, in Woodstock. ARRRRRGHHH.

  5. UPDATE: for the record, Daniel passed just in the nick of time. He's been doing a fabulous job driving for his dad while he goes through his weekly "treatments". Treatments = Euphenism for torture at the hand of gleeful nurses who do this kind of thing every. single. day. Ugh.