Michelle

I remember the first day I put my foot on a gas pedal. It was the year 2007 and I was
eleven years old. I was initially excited to drive because it seemed so fun and freeing.
My family and I were in vacation is Carlsbad and my dad suggested my brother –Matt,
who was seventeen at the time- and I go cart racing. After my parents paid and it was
time to put on the helmet the instructor gave me, the excitement was building.  The
instructor then gave my brother and me basic instructions and safety rules. Then, it
was time to go on the track. It was louder than I thought and disorienting, but I tried to
focus. The instructor told us to sit in our carts and wait for instruction, which I did
reluctantly. I noticed that there were other racers ready to go. My excitement was
starting to leave as nervousness took its place. I sat in my cart and tried to pay
attention to the man right in front of me. He was saying something about the flags he
had in his hands, but it was loud and it was difficult to hear. Plus, my heart was starting
to pound, making it impossible to focus. Suddenly, the instructor moved to the side and
I started to panic, and looked over at my brother who seemed cool as a cucumber.
Next thing I know the green flag went up and everyone around me including Matt, took
off. I hesitantly put my foot on the gas pedal, a little more, more, more, then I flew
down the track. Wow, what a rush, the wind in my face was amazing. It was going
great up until I had to turn, not knowing I was supposed to let up on the gas. I was
going the same speed and skimmed the barrier that separates the lanes of the track.
Whew I thought, not too bad, not too bad at all. I was starting to feel the adrenaline and
getting into a good vibe. I was a little shaky steering on turns, but other than that it was
going pretty damn well. I noticed my cart was coming up behind another driver’s. I tried
to slow down but bam, ended up hitting their bumper. I yelled sorry hoping that they
weren't upset. Fortunately, they turned around and waved signaling it was okay (at
least I think that’s what they meant). Anyways, I got back into my zone and continued
driving. As I passed my parents on the sideline, I noticed they were cheering for me. I
was in high spirits and kept on driving thinking, “Here I am eleven and driving like a
pro”. Somewhere in the corner of my eye I saw a flag waving and wondered what it
meant. I just looked for my brother, but didn't see him. So I just kept driving past the
finish line again, and happened to look to side of it and saw my brother. I suddenly
knew something was wrong and tried to get his attention, but I passed and turned my
head around, forgetting my foot was on the gas pedal. BAM! I ran dead into the barrier.
I closed my eyes and it was as though time stopped and the whole world was looking
at me. When I finally opened my eyes, I figured everyone hadn't really noticed and I
was just being ridiculous. But, my family and the instructors were laughing and any
other soul that witnessed. I was mortified and will never forget the look of humor on
everyone’s face. I never wanted to talk about what happened ever again, but
unfortunately it became a family joke. Because of this experience I was scared to ever
drive again. Hell, I didn't even want to be near the front of a car for a long time. My
parents just thought it was a funny thing that happened once but it affected me for a
long time. So much so that three years later when my dad was trying to teach me how
to drive -in a car this time- I couldn't stop shaking. I was sincerely afraid to drive and it
took me a year after that to get behind the wheel. To be honest I didn't think I would
ever drive just because of one bad experience. But, after I learned the basics (and
didn't crash), I made a promise that I would never hold myself back because of a bad
circumstance. This event signified my will to never give up on something no matter
how tough or intimidating it seems.