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As we rolled up and down hills and banked sharp curves, I kept pressing the accelerator for more speed. I wanted to see how fast I could make Dad's Chevy go on this hilly and winding country road. It was like riding a roller coaster.
Since most of my friends didn't have their licenses yet, I was the cool guy who drove everyone around.
So, of course, I had to show off whenever I could.
"Faster," my friends urged. I grinned smugly and pressed hard on the accelerator. At the crest of a hill, we went airborne and then the car quickly jolted back onto the road with a loud thud.
My friends went crazy.
"Yeah!"
"Awesome!"
Right after I cleared the top of another hill, my heart jumped as I spotted a cop car hidden behind some bushes. I'd caught the blurred shadow of a man pointing a radar gun out the window. . . right at me.
Instinctively, I slammed on my brakes and skidded past the officer as he fishtailed his car onto the road and sped up behind me with his lights flashing.
Busted.
Since most of my friends didn't have their licenses yet, I was the cool guy who drove everyone around.
So, of course, I had to show off whenever I could.
"Faster," my friends urged. I grinned smugly and pressed hard on the accelerator. At the crest of a hill, we went airborne and then the car quickly jolted back onto the road with a loud thud.
My friends went crazy.
"Yeah!"
"Awesome!"
Right after I cleared the top of another hill, my heart jumped as I spotted a cop car hidden behind some bushes. I'd caught the blurred shadow of a man pointing a radar gun out the window. . . right at me.
Instinctively, I slammed on my brakes and skidded past the officer as he fishtailed his car onto the road and sped up behind me with his lights flashing.
Busted.
"You've gotta be kidding!" I groaned in frustration as my mom's warning echoed in my head.
"You'd better slow down," she had recently told me.
"If you get a ticket, I'm confiscating your license."
Even when I was driving with Mom in the car, I had a tendency to push the speed limit. I'm sure she could only imagine how fast I drove when she wasn't around.
As the burly officer approached my car, ticket pad in hand, my stomach churned.
Mom and Dad are gonna kill me!
My heart pounded hard as I rolled down my window.
"Son, do you realize you were going fifty-nine in a thirty-five mile per hour zone?" the officer asked me in his deep southern drawl.
I desperately searched my thoughts for a reasonable excuse. Then it hit me. I remembered my driver's education instructor reminding us to watch our speed after leaving the highway. He had warned that an extended period of high-speed driving on the highway can make you feel like you're going slower than you really are.
He even had a word for it that came to me--and just in time.
"Uh, I'm not sure. . ." I responded as I strained to keep my voice from quivering. "But I think I must have been velocitized."
The cop crinkled up his eyebrows and looked at me like I was crazy. Clearly, my brilliant excuse hadn't worked. When he handed me a ticket, my stomach dropped. I knew some older guys who'd gotten tickets from the country sheriff's department, and their parents had received a letter telling them all about what happened. Now my parents would get a similar letter.
Great I'm toast.
"You'd better slow down," she had recently told me.
"If you get a ticket, I'm confiscating your license."
Even when I was driving with Mom in the car, I had a tendency to push the speed limit. I'm sure she could only imagine how fast I drove when she wasn't around.
As the burly officer approached my car, ticket pad in hand, my stomach churned.
Mom and Dad are gonna kill me!
My heart pounded hard as I rolled down my window.
"Son, do you realize you were going fifty-nine in a thirty-five mile per hour zone?" the officer asked me in his deep southern drawl.
I desperately searched my thoughts for a reasonable excuse. Then it hit me. I remembered my driver's education instructor reminding us to watch our speed after leaving the highway. He had warned that an extended period of high-speed driving on the highway can make you feel like you're going slower than you really are.
He even had a word for it that came to me--and just in time.
"Uh, I'm not sure. . ." I responded as I strained to keep my voice from quivering. "But I think I must have been velocitized."
The cop crinkled up his eyebrows and looked at me like I was crazy. Clearly, my brilliant excuse hadn't worked. When he handed me a ticket, my stomach dropped. I knew some older guys who'd gotten tickets from the country sheriff's department, and their parents had received a letter telling them all about what happened. Now my parents would get a similar letter.
Great I'm toast.
Keeping Quiet
As I drove home at that afternoon--slowly--all i could think about was how to save myself. Save myself from humiliation of having to tell my friends that my parents had taken my license. Save myself from the lecture I'd get from my dad, who, ironically, was a driver's ed teacher. Save myself from the painful and inevitable grounding that would surely follow. And I didn't want to be grounded because I had plans to go camping with friends. So I kept quiet.
That evening as my buddies and I sat around the roaring bonfire, we brainstormed ways I could intercept the letter before my folks saw it.
"For the next week, you gotta get to the mailbox before your parents do," Cole said.
"That's not gonna work," I replied. "They're both teachers. Some days Dad's home by 3:15."
"Well, is there anyone in your neighborhood you trust who could check the mail for you before your parents got home?" John asked as he tossed another log on the fire.
Someone I trust.
I couldn't help but get stuck on that word: trust.
There we were, weeding through possible scenarios of how I could hide the truth from my family, and I was thinking of who I could trust to do something dishonest for me. It didn't seem right, but it keep those thoughts to myself.
That evening as my buddies and I sat around the roaring bonfire, we brainstormed ways I could intercept the letter before my folks saw it.
"For the next week, you gotta get to the mailbox before your parents do," Cole said.
"That's not gonna work," I replied. "They're both teachers. Some days Dad's home by 3:15."
"Well, is there anyone in your neighborhood you trust who could check the mail for you before your parents got home?" John asked as he tossed another log on the fire.
Someone I trust.
I couldn't help but get stuck on that word: trust.
There we were, weeding through possible scenarios of how I could hide the truth from my family, and I was thinking of who I could trust to do something dishonest for me. It didn't seem right, but it keep those thoughts to myself.
I had messed up--not just by getting the speeding ticket but also by not telling Mom and Dad about it.
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We stayed up late playing cards, eating junk foods, and talking sports, but I couldn't enjoy myself. Guilt and shame washed over me All I could do was think about how I had messed up--not just by getting the speeding ticket but also by not telling Mom and Dad.
Coming Clean
The next morning while my buddies were still sleeping, I went for a walk in the woods to be alone with God.
"Dear Lord," I prayed as I made my way down a dirt path. "I've messed up--big time. Of course, you already know that."
Bright sunshine streamed through the thick tree branches, reminding me once again of God's wonder and beauty.
"I'm so sorry for how I've been acting. When I got that ticket, I freaked out. I panicked and stopped thinking clearly.
"I'm sorry, God, for driving carelessly and for not being honest with Mom and Dad. Please give me the courage to tell them what I did. I don't want them to be ashamed of me, but mostly I don't want to disappoint you. Please forgive me Lord."
That evening at dinner I took a deep breath and said,
"Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you." I thought it would be best if I blurted it out quickly and painlessly, like ripping a bandage from your skin.
"I was busted yesterday for speeding," I said quietly.
Mom looked at me with fire in her eyes.
Dad just nodded and said, "Your Uncle Roger mentioned that he saw you. He passed you when you where pulled over."
I braced for myself for the third degree, but my parents' reaction surprised me. They were definitely disappointed, and they did take away my wheels for two months, but they also did something I wasn't expecting. After going on and on about how dangerous speeding is, they hugged me, thanked God for keeping me safe, and told me that they appreciated my honestly.
"Dear Lord," I prayed as I made my way down a dirt path. "I've messed up--big time. Of course, you already know that."
Bright sunshine streamed through the thick tree branches, reminding me once again of God's wonder and beauty.
"I'm so sorry for how I've been acting. When I got that ticket, I freaked out. I panicked and stopped thinking clearly.
"I'm sorry, God, for driving carelessly and for not being honest with Mom and Dad. Please give me the courage to tell them what I did. I don't want them to be ashamed of me, but mostly I don't want to disappoint you. Please forgive me Lord."
That evening at dinner I took a deep breath and said,
"Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you." I thought it would be best if I blurted it out quickly and painlessly, like ripping a bandage from your skin.
"I was busted yesterday for speeding," I said quietly.
Mom looked at me with fire in her eyes.
Dad just nodded and said, "Your Uncle Roger mentioned that he saw you. He passed you when you where pulled over."
I braced for myself for the third degree, but my parents' reaction surprised me. They were definitely disappointed, and they did take away my wheels for two months, but they also did something I wasn't expecting. After going on and on about how dangerous speeding is, they hugged me, thanked God for keeping me safe, and told me that they appreciated my honestly.
My parent's reaction surprised me.
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I must admit, it felt good to tell the truth. And as far as my ticket, I lucked out. Because it was my first offense, I only had to pay the minimum fine. I also had to attend a six-week defensive driving course.
The sting of having to face my friends without a license was the toughest part. Without my car I was no longer the cool guy with the fast ride.
But that's OK I've learned there is something better than that need for speed. It's the feeling that comes from acting in a way that pleases God.
-by Todd Casbon
The sting of having to face my friends without a license was the toughest part. Without my car I was no longer the cool guy with the fast ride.
But that's OK I've learned there is something better than that need for speed. It's the feeling that comes from acting in a way that pleases God.
-by Todd Casbon
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