When I was growing up, I had an older brother and sister who got there licenses before I did. I watched my dad teach them how to drive and made a mental note of all their mistakes. If my dad told them something that they did wrong, I would log it into my mind that I would not do that when it was my turn.
Finally, my turn came for my father to teach me to drive. I was prepared and ready to learn. I was close to seventeen years old and knew that I was mature enough to handle a car. I got behind the wheel with my father sitting in the passenger seat and let myself be one with the car. I was a’natural born driver’, according to my father. I was so proud of myself that I could show my dad that I could do it. Besides my father showing me how to drive, I also took driving classes which helped when I got my license to lower our insurance rates.
A couple days before my eighteenth birthday, I went for my driver’s license. It was snowing heavily and I thought this would jinx me, but it didn’t. I got my license.