After two classes and a coffee break in the morning, we went into town in the afternoon to get a driver's license. The officer in charge, a smiling British type with Meerschaum pipe and blond mustache and shirt untucked around an ample waist, told us that our America licenses weren't any good and that there was a two month wait for appointments. However, he said he would try to work with me that afternoon if I got all the necessary papers. Hunt's Motors would know how to go about this, he claimed, and sent me over there, neglecting to give directions. After wandering in the wrong direction for fifteen minutes, we asked, turned around, picked up a copy of the Uganda Driving Code and went to Hunt's Motors. There they were happy to oblige and gave us a chauffeured car.

They gave the driver directions to pick up what we needed. We went to the wrong building first and then to the right one. We paid five shillings and got a temporary license. We drove back to the college where I got my Polaroid camera to take the three pictures of myself needed. Returning the car at about one o'clock, we said we'd pick it up at about two for the test at two thirty and had lunch at the Imperial Hotel, reading our book between courses. I got up before the meal was completely finished to pick up the car, telling the waiter that my friend was staying. Our waiter thought that this meant that we were staying at the hotel and tore up our bill and made out a separate one. The manager investigated and Pat told me afterwards that they finally straightened it out. I walked the mile or so down to where the car was and picked it up with driver, practiced a little and went down to the driving test building. I then found that we still needed yet another form, so we drove to another building and got the form—ten shillings.

Finally, back at the test building, I got into the car with the pleasant Englishman and drove around town. I didn't look carefully at one intersection and almost got rammed, but otherwise thought I did okay. Before we left, the inspector had asked the Hunt's driver how I was and he had replied great or something like that. On returning, the inspector asked Pat if he'd ever driven with me on the left hand side of the road. On entering the building, he said I'd flunked, that I wasn't sure enough of shifting with my left hand and to come back after I'd practiced some more. So I took the car off, practiced for forty-five minutes and returned to Hunt's Motors. Result: a forty shilling charge for the car, fifteen shillings for papers and no license.