I drove for the first time when I was about 9 years old.
That’s also when I crashed for the first time, slamming hard into a big blue dumpster after the brakes on my homemade go-kart failed.
Those early days behind the wheel of a go-kart I made with my dad are what sparked my love for cars and my desire for speed (not to mention a hearty appreciation for good brakes). Today, like most responsible adults, my driving is limited to shuttling the kids to school and piano lessons with the inevitable stop at Costco.
Not exactly the stuff of blood-pumping exhilaration, which is why I’m so thankful for two things: the thrill of the track and my son’s go-kart.