Hands on the wheel, grip so firm, foot on the pedals, and gear on five—I felt so alive! Augmented with a machine, revving up its engines and having its vibrations course through my body. The wind through my hair and ears. Suddenly, I had to hit the brakes to avoid a collision. All was good and fine, thankfully, but that's when it hit me. There was once a time I almost gave up driving.
It was a fine day. The day I would own my first electric guitar. It only happened to be the same as our independence day. Across states, I drove to get the guitar. On my way back, just a couple of kilometers away from home, that's when it happened.
I hit someone. Or rather, someone hit me. It was a motorcycle with a passenger. The collision could have been catastrophic if there had been other cars right behind on the highway, but it was all the same a bloody scene. Although both of them were very fine and discharged the next day, I was never the same afterwards.
Normally, I was blamed, being the one in an SUV, and they were the "smaller people." No time for that as there were lives on the line, so we managed to get to the hospital. But that was only half the problem for the day. While the victims were being taken care of, I had to go face the police, who only wanted to exploit the situation rather than de-escalate it. It was only an accident, so I couldn't understand just why I was getting arrested.
It was a traumatic day for me. Two people almost got killed in an accident. I almost got wrongfully detained, and then I had to buy a replacement tire. It was an intense week for me. I became quiet after that day. My new guitar remained unboxed for days. I never wanted to get behind the wheels any more. The confidence I had been building for four years since I started driving...vanished.
My mother and brother had to do all of the driving henceforth. But my mom kept telling me, "Don't allow this event to cripple something you worked hard to acquire." She allowed me to take time to come off it, but she always reminded me to rather learn from it and get back on my feet someday. She won't keep driving forever, as she's getting old.
I eventually got back on my feet. Still feeling the fear, but I wouldn't let it stifle me. I revved up the engine again, got behind the wheels again, and revved up the car again. And I learned a valuable lesson that day. The only way to get back on your feet after being knocked down is to summon the courage to rise again.
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