On Doing The Right Thing Or Driving In Italy

Let me be clear from the beginning: I really do love living in Italy. The country itself is beautiful, the people generally friendly, and the food, excellent.

However, there are little things, here and there, that can be a source of annoyance. Most recently, my superior suggested that I try to get my Italian driver’s license: an international permit is valid only for a year and then, in theory, a foreigner is supposed to convert their old license into a new Italian one.

An Unusual System

Of course, theory and practice are often two different realities, which is certainly the case in Italy. The problem hinges on this fact: a driver’s license from the United States can’t simply be converted. There’s no way around it (even for Italians who have ways around the official way for everything), or, as the receptionist at the local driving school said, “You know what I can do for you with this [indicating rather pejoratively my lovely Maryland license]? Absolutely nothing!” That being said, and after laughing hysterically, she became quite pleasant and explained that to obtain an Italian license, not only would I have to retake the theoretical and practical tests, but I would also have to complete a full course of driver’s education.

One of the advantages of COVID is that all of the classes can be done in the security of one’s own home through pre-recorded, semi-professional videos, to which a driving student such as myself can be subjected to twenty-seven minute sessions at a time.

The Famous Instructor

The instructor, a young Italian who wishes to remain anonymous (at least I suppose so, since he never introduced himself!), clearly imbibed copious amounts of espresso before each recording. That would be the only explanation I could find for someone whose enthusiasm for clarifying the meaning of stop signs and pedestrian crossings is unrivaled even by a soccer fanatic watching his team play in a championship. It also explains why, at around the fifteen-to-twenty-minute mark, there was a slight dip in that enthusiasm, resulting in some rather curious phrases and digressions. For example:

• When elucidating the meaning of a sign with a deer crossing the road, our instructor noted that we shouldn’t honk the horn because it will scare the poor creatures and then “they will attack us.” After an awkward pause, perhaps as the ridiculousness of the comment set in, he hastily continued, “It wouldn’t be the first time. Now the next sign is for domestic animals . . .” I suppose it might not be the first time if you were used to driving through, say, the Serengeti plains. Still, I have yet to see the police, either from Italy or elsewhere, reply positively to a driver who argues that the deer on the side of the road is deceased because it repeatedly rammed itself into the vehicle like a man might ram his face into another’s fist during a tense argument.
• When explaining the parts of the car, which comprises a part of the theory to be tested, the instructor repeatedly called the various parts “il famoso,” meaning “the famed” or “famous”: “Here we have the famous muffler . . . the famous steering wheel . . . the famous brake pad.” To be sure, it’s a filler word when there’s no other adjective that will do, and after all, there are only so many descriptions that can be applied to parts of the engine. Nonetheless, I was left with the distinct impression that my car in its entirety is some sort of B-list celebrity, like the guy who always gets killed first in a horror movie, or a guest star on All My Children.

These things are, of course, all very benign. However, two later lessons proved quite challenging, such as the one on who has precedence at an intersection as well as the one on various types of documents and licenses.

Theory vs Practice

If I was suspicious that theory and practice could be different, the lesson on precedence confirmed my suspicions beyond a reasonable doubt. Cars meeting at a simple intersection is a common occurrence. Cars meeting at an intersection that has no stop signs, no indications, no directions whatsoever is perhaps rarely seen in the US, but I imagine some such places exist.

However, at an (Italian) intersection where five or six streets merge, all with different cars, some turning right, some turning left, some going straight – how does one decide who goes first? The general theory is that the first to go is the driver who has no one on his right-hand side. This might be understandable, but then “right-hand” side is meant as the vehicle’s right-hand side throughout its entire trajectory, so a vehicle with no one on its right but turning left might have an impeded right side.

The exam, of course, finds situations where all five cars have impeded right sides: someone thought that the best solution for such a crisis is not to install stop signs or a light at all, but rather have the first driver drive halfway out into the intersection, let everyone else go, and then finish his turn. Italian logic. After struggling with a star-shaped intersection with five cars going five different ways (possibly with a bus and a train added in for good measure), I was certain I saw some sort of inverted pentagram, tacitly admitting that there is an actual infernal influence behind Italian traffic laws. To top it off, the instructor repeatedly insisted: “Outside of prescribed emergencies, we shouldn’t honk the horn.”

As for the other, you wouldn’t think that the lesson on licenses and documents proves so challenging, but that, in fact, is the case. The Italian government divides licenses into four classes, A through D, and then further complicates them into oddly parsed sub-divisions: AM, A1, A2, A, B1, B, BE, B96, C1, C1E, C, CE, D1, D1E, D, and DE. Furthermore, some divisions include others from different classes: for example, a person with a B license can drive all A1 vehicles, but only in Italy; all AM and B1 vehicles throughout the European Union; then, it takes into account all motorized tricycles, but only in Italy, and only under 15kW, unless the driver is over 21, at which point they can exceed 15 kW.

Further complicating matters, the A license allows me to drive motorcycles and farm equipment, even though I know nothing about them. All this is still further complicated by the fact that having grown up in the US with imperial measurements (inches and feet), European metric measurements (kilometers, cubic centimeters, and kilograms) might as well be in palms, spans, and cubits. Lastly, I won’t even mention my eye exam (only to say that, in the end, officially and legally, I can drive without glasses, even though I can’t distinguish my fingers without them).

The Back Story

It would, however, be worth repeating a story told to me: an elderly man went to have his eyes examined in order to have his license renewed. The doctor started with the smallest letters, but the man saw nothing. The doctor moved to the next, but still nothing, the next, nothing . . . finally the doctor reached the largest size (perhaps something slightly smaller than billboard advertising), and still nothing. The doctor exclaimed: “You can’t see anything at all! I’ll give you the ok, but this is the last time!”

In a moment of frustration with all this, I told one of the Italians: “I would understand all this study and paperwork if Italians were great at driving but . . . you guys are downright terrible!” Rather than get angry, he just shrugged and said, “What do you expect? Hardly anybody does all this stuff: as long as you know someone, you can just buy a license, and that’s that.” I was left wondering: why does it have to be so hard to do the right thing? After all, if I want to do the right thing, couldn’t it be made much easier?

The Key Question

This raises an important question: why do we do the right thing? Why obey the commandments? Why forsake the easy way of doing things? Of course, one answer would be, “Because it’s the right thing to do,” or even “Well, God knows, and that’s enough.” These answers aren’t wrong, but they seem superficial in a world where so many people look to pleasure, fame, and wealth as their ultimate goods (or gods).

Perhaps we can make a distinction between two sorts of “right things”: the first is a clear one when we know exactly what is right and wrong, and the second is a harder case when what is right isn’t so clear.

Regarding the first, there are certain things we avoid doing because we know they’re wrong, just as there are certain things that we do because we’ve been told to. Regarding these, there can be no doubt, because God has revealed it to us, either through the natural law (the way He created things), through Revelation, or through the Church’s dispositions.

For instance, murder is never the right thing to do; neither is theft nor adultery because we know clearly that these things are wrong. In forbidding these things, God isn’t being mean or vindictive; rather, He is telling us that these acts never bring happiness. They simply can’t because they go against our nature and our true good.

When we do the right thing, we become more human: when we allow ourselves to be enslaved to our emotions or pleasure, we reduce ourselves to the level of lower animals. After all, they are bound to their instincts and passions, and if we allow ourselves to be similarly bound, there is little to distinguish us from them. However, if we make use of our intellect and our wills, those higher faculties that separate us from the animals, the special gifts that God has given us, develop and grow.

A Matter of Discernment

Sometimes, though, the right thing to do is hard because it’s not clear what the right thing to do is. Saint Ignatius of Loyola makes this distinction in his Spiritual Exercises: there are things that are just bad, and those I avoid. However, there are some things that are either good or indifferent in themselves. Sometimes these are big things: for instance, getting married or becoming a religious. Both are good things in themselves, but what does God want of me in these matters? Sometimes the issue at hand is less significant: do I give to this charity or a different one? Should I quit my job and volunteer full-time, or keep working?

Saint Ignatius gives helpful rules for discernment (worth their weight in gold), always focusing on God’s will and the ways He reveals it in our lives. While a detailed examination of these rules is a huge help, it will need to wait for future opportunities.

We can say, though, that when we do the right thing, we grow closer to God and to experiencing some of that heaven on earth. It might not be easy; it might even be downright painful and annoying at times, but doing what is right helps us grow and become the image of God we are meant to become. Seen this way, doing the right thing becomes less and less abstract and instead becomes the most concrete thing we can do to show our love for God and to help that love to grow.

This is why we do the right thing. Now, back to studying for the driving test . . .