When my friend told me her brother once crashed into a tree, I thought, what an idiot! At least he could’ve crashed into another car.

Then, the other night, I rammed straight back into a yellow pole.

I was driving in Chinatown and got lost. It was dark, and I stopped in an abandoned lot to reassess where in the world I was going. Then, after figuring it out, I shifted the stick to reverse. Seeing that nothing solid was behind me besides a railing fence, I backed up a little too quickly.

BAM! Imagine how surprised I was when I heard the sound of grinding metal and broken glass. Hoping, praying that my car wasn’t damaged beyond a few surface scratches, I got out and took a look.

There were smears of yellow paint on the fresh dent at the back corner. I looked up and realized I had crashed into a huge yellow pole. What’s worse, my right taillight was completely out, shattered glass, chipped, and everything.

I drove home that night without a single right signal and only one taillight on. After a lecture on how careless I am all the time (two accidents already in your first year of driving), my dad took it to the shop to get it fixed.

A week later, my baby was back and brand new; but when I drove it again, my mentality seemed to have changed. For one, I am deathly alert when the car is in reverse, doing a complete 360 panoramic checkup before I budge a since inch. Also, I find myself checking the mirrors more often when just cruising, looking out for anybody that might be too close.

It seems now that the more experienced I am at driving, the more scared I am. I remember when I started out, my first trip on the highway was in the pouring rain, driving downtown. Back then, I didn’t feel scared at all. It was exhilaration and freedom, all about that liberating feeling.

But now, though that feeling’s still there, driving is more practical, and way scarier. Seeing accidents, being in accidents, I’ve developed a new sense of acute wariness.