Pilar nails the parking and the examiner still won't sign

"That's it, Braulio. Get out of the car and sign." "I haven't signed, Pilar." "I parked first time. All right, seventh time in two years, but today, first time." "The parking was flawless. Minute four wasn't." "What happened at minute four?" "You crossed a solid white line to get round a delivery van. Forty centimetres. And there was a cyclist coming the other way in that lane." "I didn't see any cyclist." "That's the problem. Not the line." "Braulio, you've been an examiner for twenty-two years and you know me. I'm fifty-eight, I'm a hairdresser, and the salon has moved out to the industrial estate, where the bus doesn't go. If you don't pass me, I close in March." "I know. You cut my hair for twelve years. And last month I signed off a lad who didn't see anyone either." "And what happened?" "Nothing. He's got a licence now." "Then sign mine." "I can sign today and you'll believe it, or you can come out with me on Tuesday on the ring road at eight and learn to look at the left-hand lane before you move into it. Your call." "Tuesday at eight." "Quarter to eight, Pilar. And you're driving out of the garage."