I entered the dimly lit back side of Sears, where all the out-of-season summer grills were stored. The store's warmth was relief from the harsh cold winds of November evenings. I checked the time on my phone, counting the minutes before class started. I looked around and saw one girl. I probably overestimated the time it would take to get here. I was early.

Ever since I was a little girl I have always dreamed of driving. Getting to choose where I wanted to go and when I wanted to go excited my adolescent desires for freedom. So obviously, I signed up for Drivers Ed the earliest I could. The first requirement? Being 14 years and 8 months old.

For what seemed like an eternity, the doors to the classroom finally opened. I entered and was greeted by a very tall skinny man, which I presumed was my teacher. “Welcome to Drivers Ed” is what he said in a very tired, raspy voice. He and I, along with the only other girl that was waiting outside, went to his desk and we were quickly registered. I sat down in a small desk and looked around. The classroom wasn’t much of a classroom. It was the size of a small hallway. It was narrow and had desks lined up on both sides of it. The front had a small tv and a standing whiteboard. And the walls were covered in colorful driving posters; you could barely see the beige colored brick wall. Although it wasn’t much of what I was expecting, it didn’t matter. I was finally going to drive!

While I was waiting for class to start, many people were starting to show up. Almost all the desks have been filled up. I tapped my pencil against my desk, staring at the wall, waiting for the tall, skinny man to start class. As I was about to check my phone, a large man entered the classroom. Everybody stared at him as he made his way to the teacher’s desks. He turned around and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Mr. B. I will be your instructor” he said, and then looking on to the tall skinny man, he added, “And this is Mr. H. He will be the other driving instructor, but he will only be here when he has a driving appointments.”

It seems I had the wrong impression as to who my teacher was going to be. But I could care less. The teachers assigned us to one of them. And one of them were going to be our driving instructors for when we drove. I got assigned Mr. B. After finishing assigning students to them, they also assigned us dates for when we were going to go on our six mandatory drives. On the 6th ride we would end up receiving a slip to obtain our driving permit.

The classes were boring, but I always made sure to write down all the notes that were on the tv, even though most of the time I couldn’t, since Mr. B would always move the slides too quickly. I made it a priority to study hard. I needed to pass the test. Only then could I accomplish my goal.

The day of my first drive finally arrived. I was waiting outside the Sears parking lot with another student who was assigned to be my driving partner. I stood there shivering, huddling more into my coat, wondering when the teacher would show up and start our lesson. He arrived late and handed me the keys to the car. I looked at the keys, smiling, and made my way to the driver's side instead of the passenger side. I sat down and slowly put the key into the ignition. I turned it on. Mr. B told me to reverse out of the parking spot and drive down the parking lot. I did it. I was driving! I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was actually driving! It seemed pretty simple. While I was driving, Mr. B kept telling me to brake. I was braking every few minutes. I’m not sure why, he didn’t say why either, maybe he was testing the breaks? He told me to go down the road next to Sears. As I entered the road he told me to “pick it up at a 30." But those 30 miles per hour felt more like 60 miles per hour. I guess actually driving the car felt more different than riding in the passenger seat.

Something seemed off. Whenever I would stop too quickly or make some minor mistakes, he would get this expression on his face. He would lower his eyebrows and squint his eyes and then he would tell me I made a mistake in a loud voice, but each mistake that happened, he would get even louder. Almost a scream, but not a scream. It was weird. I have never seen a teacher get so bothered over my mistakes. I guess maybe he just didn’t want me to do so many. It was my first drive though. He should’ve been more understanding.

Over the next few drives he would get so agitated and scream at me whenever I did a mistake. I couldn’t understand why he had to scream at me like that. This has been so new to me. I made sure to tell him I’ve never driven before but he always got so loud when I didn’t drive like he expected me to. Everytime I drove I was trying as hard as I could, but he still screamed. “STOP MORE SLOWLY” or “DON'T ACCELERATE WHEN TURNING” were some of the things he always screamed out. I assumed maybe that's the way Drivers Ed teachers taught so I didn’t think much of it after that. This was just to teach me how to drive better. I would just have to get used to those screams.

It was finally the day of the 5th drive. The casino drive. This drive was going to be one of the biggest yet. I was going to drive to a casino gas station where many cars would be at. I stood outside with my partner, making small talk to keep my mind off any possibilities of me making a mistake. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Why was I so bothered with screams? I saw it happen so many times already. I should just shake it off. It’s not a big deal anymore. I would be done soon. I was already on my 5th drive. Only one more to go. My head was filled with thoughts.

Just my luck. My fifth drive would be in the dark. The sun had set and my teacher had finally arrived. Mr. B seemed bothered by something. But I didn’t say anything. He hasn’t screamed at all. Things seemed to be going well. It looked like maybe this drive wouldn’t be so bad.

I was driving down this dark road when Mr. B signaled me to enter a highway ramp. No biggie. I turned my signal on, waiting for a clear passing and entered.

As I was entering Mr. B yelled out. “WHY DID YOU THAT?!”

I jumped, looking at him wide eyed.  He yelled so differently from the other times. Even my partner seemed scared. He told me to stop. So I did. I stopped in the middle of a dark ramp waiting for him to tell me what I did wrong. I was so certain what I did was right, I couldn’t even come up with an explanation as to why he screamed. Mr. B turned to me and started speaking. But I couldn’t even get one word before he looked back and screamed GO!! In the loudest, most panicky voice I’ve ever heard.

I looked into the rearview mirror and saw a pair of blinding yellow headlights coming fast down the curving ramp, seconds from reaching the car. I immediately felt sick. I hit the pedal all the way I could until I could no longer press it down further. I entered the highway, quickly missing the car behind. My teacher yelled “you're going to die if you’re not careful!” I stayed quiet. I reached the casino and switched spots with my partner.

I got out of the car with trembling legs and sat down in the back seat, wiping my sweaty palms against my jeans thinking, If I hadn’t accelerated when I did, I probably wouldn’t be... A chill went down my spine. I replayed the event over and over, drowning out all my surroundings.

I went to bed that night thinking about what had happened. Was it really my fault? How could I have prevented it? Is it really that easy to almost.. I don’t care, I just don’t want to drive anymore.

My 6th drive was different. Mr. B didn’t scream at me once. I drove, but not the same way I used to. I no longer saw it as just driving, but as a danger. At any given moment anything could happen.

I passed the course and was given my ticket to get my permit. I imagined this as a happier moment. It was strange seeing it turn out like this. I’ve been looking forward to this moment since I started this course. But as the days passed since the near accident, the excitement of me driving lowered every passing day.

I got my permit. I started driving with my dad. I couldn’t touch a steering wheel without thinking of every possible danger that could happen. Driving became a chore, enjoying it seemed like a very impossible option.

I couldn’t drive for months without breaking a sweat. Maybe it was my fault for thinking of it too deeply. But it seems it was just too hard for me to handle. It took me about a year of self evaluation and instability until I was able to drive normally again. The near accident, which was once a big mountain in my mind, too hard to move, became a small bump I was easily able to push through. If I had the ability to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. My experience made me the better and stronger driver I am today.