For the past few years I and the act of driving a car have been in an epically lopsided feud. Driving tends to come out the winner of our battles, while I tend to have to wait for my mother to pick him up afterwards. My most epic and embarrassing failures have all come from behind the wheel of a car. My history with driving has been a seemingly endless stream of calamity, frustration, screaming, and failure.
My biggest driving failure came in my schools parking lot. I was a just beginning at driving, and I had nearly destroyed most of the mailboxes on the street where I live, so my mother and I decided it would be best if we got away from private property. We went to the parking lot of my school. It was the weekend, so school was out, and none of my fellow classmates were in danger. My mother drove me out to the parking lot. I went to the driver's seat, and my mother with terror deep in her heart, went to the passenger's side.
Despite being absolutely terrified and completely unprepared, I began to drive. Turns out, I shouldn't have started driving at all. Not because I wasn't ready or I was too afraid to drive, but because I forgot to close the door to the car. I was driving with the car door wide open. So after closing the door swallowing my embarrassment, I began to drive again. I
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I let the possibility of failure get into my head, and keep me from my rightful place in the driver’s seat. Now, years after that accident in the parking lot, whenever I do something I realize that failure is always a possibility, but I can’t let it get in my way. I acknowledge that I may fail and I then I promptly ignore it. If I spend all my time contemplating all the possibilities for failure in every situation in my life, I’ll never get anything done. I’ll forever be stuck in the passenger