Behind the Wheel

I’ve always had a phobia of driving, for no particular reason, racing in a heated metal box amongst other speeding metal boxes utterly terrified me. I always assumed I would grow out of this somewhat childish fear as I aged, but there I was, hands gripping the leather-lined steering wheel, my leg anxiously bouncing up and down as I waited for the man who would decide if I could be deemed safe on the road to tell me to start the vehicle. I’ve never felt more overwhelmed than I did during the duration of that twenty-minute examination. Ultimately, it was my own fault for this extreme amount of nervousness, as I put an immense amount of pressure on myself to pass, as everyone else in my family passed their exam on the first try. I didn’t want to be the first to fail; I couldn’t. Even though, looking back, I now realize that I should never have let myself feel that way. I was already scared out of my mind; I didn’t need that on my shoulders. However, in the end, I did not pass my driving test. Due to circumstances that weren’t in my control, my instructor had to use his brakes, therefore resulting in an automatic failure. I was the first to fail; I didn’t know what to do. I sat there, feeling childish as ever, and cried. It was pouring outside as I ran to my mom’s car, sobbing profusely, telling her I had failed. I cried until I couldn’t breathe, and I continued to cry for three more days. All of those nights practicing until dusk, all of those dreadfully boring classes, for seemingly nothing. In reality, no one was disappointed in me other than myself. Driving has always been a struggle for me, and it probably always will be, but eventually I learned to accept that. Two weeks later, I had my make-up test. It was a different instructor who had a very accepting tone. I was still gripping the wheel, and my leg still bounced, but I knew I could do it, and I did. I passed my driving test with a ninety-four and my written exam with a hundred. I finally got my license, and even though it took so many sleepless, tearful nights, I overcame one of the biggest challenges of my teenage life. It’s now been several months since my test, and I can now drive people other than my immediate family around. Although I barely get behind the wheel nowadays, I can. Not only legally, I know I can safely transport people under my watch and in my vehicle. Even though I remember my driver’s test with dread and overwhelming sadness, it taught me to look at the big picture. I failed one test—one minor test that plenty of people fail every year—but that doesn’t make me a failure. One of my biggest priorities is being a role model to my two younger siblings. Growing up I didn’t feel I had an older brother I could rely on. I had to navigate a lot of heavy problems on my own, and that’s a lot of pressure for a child. Although that experience was not preferable, it ultimately motivated me to be the person I wish I had in my life when I was younger. I promised myself that I would never let my younger siblings go through the same things I did. I am fully dedicated to making their childhood as happy as possible. I also like to think that this dedication bleeds into other aspects of my life. If I am going to put my effort into something I am going to put in 100%. Mainly because whether it’s someone close to me or not, someone is relying on me. It could be my siblings, my castmates in a theater production, my classmates in a group project, really anyone. If someone else is relying on me for something, big or small, I will not let them down. If given the opportunity, I will try my hardest to be a supportive figure in someone’s life. If I can prevent someone from feeling alone in their struggles, I will. No one deserves to feel that way, so being the person I wish I had in my life when I was younger is and will always be a very important part of who I am.  It was one test, one bad day, and just because I had a bad day doesn't and never will make me a bad person.