If you’ve read the last blog, you’d know that I love speed. I love the wind racing through my hair as I zip throughout the streets and roads. I love when the RPM begins tipping down on my gauges as my engine roars. However, my love and need for speed would soon turn into a bad habit.

One Summer day, I was heading to a car show with my first girlfriend riding shotgun. She was a blonde bombshell that I desperately wanted to impress. We were heading down Route 66, and the roads were empty. I looked at her, she looked at me and she knew exactly what I was going to do. I slam my foot on the gas pedal and my silver 1978 Corvette takes off like a bat out of hell itself. Only a few moments later I hear the faint noise of a police siren. At first glance in my mirror, I didn’t see any lights. However, on the second glance, I can see the blue and red lights flashing behind me struggling to keep up. Now, in this moment you have two choices. Keep going and risk going to jail, or slow down and take your ticket like a man. That is exactly what I did.