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My heart pounds in my chest, beating so ferociously I begin to have the irrational fear that it will explode out from within me. My fingers quiver and my whole body shakes. My posture is one of survival; senses alert, adrenaline rushing threw my veins, eyes darting from one direction to another, feet always ready, read to- BREAK!

My foot slams against the break pedal, and the car comes to an abrupt stop. My mother ‘s body and mine lurch forward, only to be quickly pulled back by our seatbelts; seatbelts, I had never before been more grateful for. My mother lets out a small groan and shoots me a glare, and let me tell you, when she has that expression on, her eyes can burn a hole into your soul.

” Sorry,” I say meekly.

Foot still on the break, I squeezed the steering wheel and looked out at the road in front of me feeling quite deceived. All the people who had told me driving was hardly a challenge were most definitely lying. It wasn’t that hard of a system, I had agreed. It lacked major complexities and adjusting gears and pressing on the acceleration seemed like no great feat, but as I drove around the cul-de-sac, desperately praying this adventure of mine would result in no casualties, I began to realize how big of a deal this driving thing was.

Why I chose to drive for the first time in a bustling neighbourhood I will never understand. Children, were running around the streets practically begging me to hit them, and the many parked cars served as obstacles. It was especially annoying to see other cars drive smoothly passed me, drivers completely at ease, meanwhile I continued my pattern of abrupt stoping and going.

” Grace, ease up! You’re practically a statue!” My mother commands, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

I look down sheepishly and loosen my arms. There, that’s better, more natural. I continue to slowly inch along, gaining confidence. As we neared the end of the cul-de-sac I got ready to turn, knowing I had to follow the circle back down in the opposite direction.

My mother nods encouragingly, watching me turn.

” Er- Grace? can you maybe turn a little faster please?” She asks, sounding nervous.

Huh? It took me a second to sink  in then- Oh gosh! I wasn’t turning fast enough! I was nearing a car dangerously close and my panic level began to sky rocket. It didn’t help that my mother was beginning to scream, ” TURN TURN WHY ARE YOU SO BAD AT TURNING!!”

” I am!” I cry, searching for my saving grace, the break pedal. I find it, and  have no mercy, pushing down hard.

Screeeeeeeeeech. The car makes an ugly sound, as if it were dying.  I remain still, knuckles turning white as my fingers squeezed the steering wheel. I risk a glance at my mother, who looks slightly green. Her hair is messed up, bits of it sticking out in all different directions, framing her face like a mane. Her eyes bore into mine, not looking too happy.

” Alright, how but we just- just switch sides okay?” I watch as she shifts the gear to “park’ and begins to open her door. What happens next  can only be described as a walk of shame to the other side of the car. I can’t help but notice a group people gawking at what must have been quite the spectacle. I lower my head embarrassed and sigh at the sound of light laughter. That was my driving, a comedic act.

Needless to say, my mother and I did recover from that incident- well almost. I have yet to set foot in the drivers side of the car again, but I know I will- atleast I think I will…