POS

 

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Looking back, it could have gone either way. It didn’t work out, which makes it look like fate, or a stupid decision, or both. But at the time, I did have a few things in my favor. I had ….

my freedom and what I thought was a bright future ahead of me. Instead of a thrilling city, I ended up back at home, living with my mom and dad. To top it all off, I was bed ridden for the next several weeks too. At least until my legs healed. How had I fallen so far so fast?

It all started with a car – a piece of shit car in fact. My father gave it to me on my 16th birthday. It didn’t run well and it looked like utter crap.

I didn’t realize at first, but it was the best gift anyone had ever given me. Every time it needed repaired, my dad would set aside time to take me out to the garage and teach me how to fix it myself.

Once I gave it a chance, I was hooked. I fell in love with fixing and improving my POS. Within a year, it was no longer running horribly. It still looked awful but it ran like a beast. The last two years of high school flew by because of that car. Either I was at work or fixing my car, and I only worked so I would have money to put into my car.

High school came and went and even more to my surprise, on graduation day, my parents announced that I had a trust fund left behind by my grandparents. All of my college expenses would be paid for and then some. I’d already applied and been accepted to City College and now with my new fortune, I couldn’t wait to leave.

It wasn’t long after settling in at school, that I met some like-minded companions who were also into all things automobile related. They introduced to the world of underground racing.

And I was good at it. Even in my POS, I won a lot of races and made a lot of money. Not that I cared though because everything I needed was paid for. I just enjoyed the thrill of the race.

People say things like car accidents happen all the time. And it’s true. Accidents happen. Sometimes you are not even doing anything out of the ordinary but they happen anyway.

When you get in the car and race, chances of an accident increase exponentially. That should seem obvious, but honestly my 18 year old brain wouldn’t have cared anyway if someone had mentioned that to me.

I lived to race. And sooner rather than later, I got in an accident. An accident that landed me in the hospital, barely alive, and now living with my parents again.

If I could do it over again, I would still do it. You only live once and sometimes you just want to drive fast.

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