Personal Reflective Essay: Behind The Wheel

I was so tired, even attempting to keep my eyes open was a struggle. My whole body was achy after a hard day’s of school work, constantly staring at a computer screen and typing away, just to finish an essay. My pale white hands, frozen by the air conditioning blasting on high, were holding on to the steering wheel like a person gripping the edge of a cliff, hoping not to fall into a dark abyss. My brain wanted to give in, to remain in the sleep that I kept dangerously drifting in and out of. I took a look outside, the road looking meek. The rows if brush hoars any objects spattered off the road by vehicles in the August sun. It felt like I was going around in a circle, my tires skating around the bends and turns of the road. I felt maybe I should slow down so I do not lose
I snap back to reality and notice that my speedometer read 30 mph. I was in a 20 mph zone. I slam on the brakes to slow down. Behind me, a driver lays on his horn to tell me how irresponsible my last decision was. I reach for the radio and turn the tuner dial until I find something upbeat and groovy. As I remove my hand, I begin to hit on the steering wheel like a drum. The steering wheel is black and coverless. It sounds good when I hit it. It is also keeping me awake at the moment. My step mom sat next to me in the passenger’s seat messing around with her phone. She never pays attention to me when I’m driving. I see a curb on the next right turn I have to take. After running over the curb, my step mom glances up to make sure I did not hit anyone. When realizing that everything is fine, she goes back to Facebook on her phone. The darkness of night was exhausting. My eyes fluttered in the beams of the yellow street lights. In a couple of blocks, I make another right turn. Then a left turn into my driveway. I turn off the engine and let out a sigh of relief. I reach for my door handle and pull, eager to go to my bed. My legs wobble underneath me as I stumble out of the truck. I am finally