I’m sure there’s a “phobia” name for the fear of DMV eye tests but I haven’t yet identified it. Irrational you say? Of course, but aren’t all phobias? And it’s not a gripping, debilitating fear. In fact, it’s more a nagging worry than an actual fear, a kind of “mini” phobia.” But ever since I hit my mid-fifties, I’ve had to take an eye test at DMV in order to renew my driver license for another five years, and each time I receive the curt reminder from DMV, I spend a month or more dreading the appointment.

Not that there’s anything wrong with my eyesight, mind you. It was 20/10 when I was in the Air Force and has always been above average. That is, until the aforementioned mid-fifties when I noticed I had to hold the newspaper a little farther away each year in order to read it and could no longer read road signs from as great a distance. So I guess you could say I’ve been avoiding the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I could use prescription glasses. And before you ask, yes, I have a pair of those drug store “cheaters” for reading but seldom use them!

I said that mine is a “mini” phobia that only occurs for about thirty days every five years. My friend Dave, on the other hand, suffers far longer. While enjoying cigars in Michael’s back yard a while back, he shared with me his own DMV-eye-test-phobia (for lack of a better term) and went into vivid detail about how terribly worried he was about his looming DMV eye test which, at the time, was more than a year away. If I were to venture an unqualified guess, I’d say his is closer to a “full size” phobia.

Anyway, I received the DMV “notice” about a month ago, reluctantly made an appointment for 9:20 yesterday morning and worried all month that, since my eyes aren’t what they once were, I wouldn’t be able to pass the eye test. I arrived at the Folsom branch of DMV about ten minutes early and was surprised to find only a few people waiting. I picked up my number at the designated window, was called after about five minutes and proceeded to Window 14 where a friendly (yes, even cheerful!) lady took my $27 and had me read a few lines on the eye chart behind her. And what do you know, it was a piece of cake just like the last two times I took it! All that worry for nothing!

She punched a hole in my old license (so I could keep it, I suppose, to remember how I looked before the gray set in) and directed me to another window to be thumbprinted and have a new photo taken. I suppose my mug needed updating; the last two times I renewed, they’d asked if I wanted to use the old photo and, since it was a pretty decent one, I’d agreed. But after fifteen years I must look a little older — this time the option wasn’t even offered.

Oh, well. My darling wife says my graying hair makes me look more debonair (I’m reserving judgement until I see my new license.) But at least I can put away my dreaded DMV eye test phobia for another five years. Maybe by then I’ll have come up with a more clinical sounding name for it.