I used to drive like an asshole.
When I was a senior in high school, my parents in a triumphant nod to my maturity, helped me buy a used Nissan 350z. It was beautiful - black on black, two seats, manual, mind blowingly quick - my god I loved that car. The months wore on, and while at first I could not drive manual to save my life, I eventually became an expert in slipping the clutch ever so slightly and whipping the car from first to second as smoke rose from the rear and a glass-shattering screech echoed down whatever road I happened to be driving.
Eventually I became more and more fearless, and one stupid thing lead to another, and with every risky move I made I feel more in love with not only my car, but what my car made me.
Then I t-boned someone going 90 in a 35 on April 12th, 2008 and forever changed my life and my mindset.
Fun fact: This happened to be the day after I went to mustang days at SMU for just-accepted orientation or whatever that goofy stuff was back in the day.
The first thing I thought when I hit the woman trying to cross the street was how stupid was she to not recognize my speed. How could she stop in the middle of the road like that? What the hell was she thinking? Why did she take my car away from me? Why why why? Whine whine why me why me...
About a week later I had the biggest reality check when I realized I was wrong, I was the idiot, and I was completely, one hundred and fifty fucking percent at fault.
I will never forget that feeling - it was almost a relief. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders because I knew I had been wrong. How could I not? I had been dealing with crippling guilt for almost two weeks.
Since then, no more crazy driving, no more aggressive moves, and no more materialistic-my-head-is-so-far-up-my-butt-bullshit.
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