English 1101 Summer
Driving Me Crazy
There is a very specific feeling I get while driving, freedom. However, it hasn’t always been that way. When learning to drive, there are a few items to consider before sitting in the driver’s seat. Most importantly, am I ready for this? I thought I was. Next item, have I done my research? I was fortunate enough to take an extracurricular driving class in high school. Lastly, who is teaching me? For me, my instructor was my father. I thought this was the best-case scenario for me. My father was a full-time semitruck driver. Who better than him to teach me? My father has always had grand expectations of us and constantly reminded me of my short comings. This put’s a lot of pressure on a fifteen-year-old. Although, I thought what was being put on me was unfair, I forgot how difficult life was for my parents. The pressure they had raising three boys must have been extremely heavy.
I remember coming home from my last day of driving class, a smile on my face and certificate in hand, I ran through the front door of our two-bedroom apartment. It was one of the biggest accomplishments I could have had at this age. We were a lower-class family; two parents, three children, and a dog. My mother and father both grew up in Costa Rica. As young adults they migrated to the United States, both with an “American Dream” in mind. I understand my parents didn’t have it easy and even they, had a lot of pressure to deal with. However, they chose the life of parenthood and should not expect all their children to perceive the world in the same light as them. My father was working two jobs, truck driving and at a fast food restaurant, all while supporting a wife, two teenagers, and a baby. This had to be extremely difficult for him to manage, so when I walked in exclaiming, “it’s time for my driving lessons,” his expression-less face should not have been a surprise. As a father, it is the social normality to teach your child to drive. For my father, this was just another chore on his, already, long list. Of course, my fifteen-year-old self retreated into my own thoughts and decided my father was the worst person for not expressing slight emotion towards my accomplishment. I experienced disappointment in him for the first time. He always did everything for us, but now when I ask him to teach me to drive, it becomes a hassle. My thoughts might have been different had I known my father was just terminated from his restaurant position. I would not have entered the apartment with a smile on my face. I would not have shouted at him with joy. I would not have questioned his emotion-less attitude. My father did everything for us, and I didn’t quite understand what that meant. Later that evening, he agreed to take me out for a driving lesson the next morning.
Ecstatic about my upcoming driving lesson, I snuck out of the apartment late at night with my father’s keys. As I walked out the...