It’s official!

My 22-year-old sister Crystal — who holds a degree in biology and probably a high score on some video game in this world — is now licensed to drive.

Beware, drivers! (Kidding!)

She passed her driving test yesterday with just minor infractions for stuff most of us do all the time: using poor judgment when entering an intersection and stopping too close to a crosswalk. (Hey, at least she stopped!)

If her driver’s license photo proves anything, she’s completely thrilled to have passed. Because she wasn’t interested in re-living the experience.

It’s funny. She’s the third person I know in their 20s — fourth, if you count my high school classmate who, at 33, still refuses to get behind the wheel — who doesn’t have a driver’s license. What’s more, they don’t really seem to want one, either.

Which, to me, is so strange.

I couldn’t wait to get my license. I was barely older than 15 when I went down to the DMV and took the driving test. (I failed the first time; long story.) I wanted that license so badly. Because it was more than a license to drive. It was my ticket to independence.

(Of course, I didn’t get a car until I was well into college, so a lot of good it did me!)

So let’s congratulate my stressed-out-over-this-driving-test sister who, thankfully, didn’t emerge from the experience with hives.

Any words of advice to share with this newly anointed driver?

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On a separate but related (literally!) note: Happy Birthday to my dad, who turns 64 today.

He may be getting older, but he can still arm-wrestle me into the ground!