Joy Ride
“The first thing you to do,” my dad says, “is put the key into the ignition and put your foot on the brake.” I scramble to move my right foot onto the brake, double checking that I had in fact found the brake, and hold the key between my thumb and index finger. With an anxious sigh, I can feel the key click into place, each silver tooth fitting into its appropriate place. The key does not move at first and, after a sharp glance to my dad sitting back in the passenger’s seat, I try again. This time I turn the key harder, against the car’s resistance, and feel the power of the engine vibrate under my foot, which now presses against the brake with all my weight. “It’s alright,” my dad says, “take it slow. Ease your foot off the pedal.” I inch my foot from the pedal, with every muscle in my body flexed and focused on pulling back my foot. The car rolls forward, no faster than five miles per hour, but to me the wind whips outside the windows, the trees form a blur of New England greenery, and the road rushes underneath the car’s wheels. We had decided to leave early, giving me extra time to get over …show more content…
While driving, poking my head left and right each moment, I realize how bad my sense of direction is. Although I know that to visit my grandparents every Sunday morning we take a left at the end of the road and then the next right, my nerves take control and I double-check every turn. My dad, taking advantage of the teaching opportunity, drops little tidbits of advice as I drive– “drive closer to the road’s center” and “brake earlier before coasting to a stop.” Perhaps halfway through our drive, a momentary sense of accomplishment floods through my mind as we pass a group of kids riding scooters and laughing to themselves. “I can do it,” I reassure myself, half-surprised, “I’m driving. I’m an
“The first thing you to do,” my dad says, “is put the key into the ignition and put your foot on the brake.” I scramble to move my right foot onto the brake, double checking that I had in fact found the brake, and hold the key between my thumb and index finger. With an anxious sigh, I can feel the key click into place, each silver tooth fitting into its appropriate place. The key does not move at first and, after a sharp glance to my dad sitting back in the passenger’s seat, I try again. This time I turn the key harder, against the car’s resistance, and feel the power of the engine vibrate under my foot, which now presses against the brake with all my weight. “It’s alright,” my dad says, “take it slow. Ease your foot off the pedal.” I inch my foot from the pedal, with every muscle in my body flexed and focused on pulling back my foot. The car rolls forward, no faster than five miles per hour, but to me the wind whips outside the windows, the trees form a blur of New England greenery, and the road rushes underneath the car’s wheels. We had decided to leave early, giving me extra time to get over …show more content…
While driving, poking my head left and right each moment, I realize how bad my sense of direction is. Although I know that to visit my grandparents every Sunday morning we take a left at the end of the road and then the next right, my nerves take control and I double-check every turn. My dad, taking advantage of the teaching opportunity, drops little tidbits of advice as I drive– “drive closer to the road’s center” and “brake earlier before coasting to a stop.” Perhaps halfway through our drive, a momentary sense of accomplishment floods through my mind as we pass a group of kids riding scooters and laughing to themselves. “I can do it,” I reassure myself, half-surprised, “I’m driving. I’m an