I sat behind the wheel of my dad's car and tried to fight back my fear of driving. For years, my dad 1 me to and from work without any complaint. He knew I was 2 of driving, so he never pushed me. It seemed as if he actually liked driving me around and I3 it as much.
Now he pushed me to drive and I wondered what had caused this4 . My chest started to feel as if someone was sitting on it, and it was becoming harder to 5 . He put his hand on my shoulder to 6 me. "Just take a deep breath and start the car." I7 and eased my way out of the parking lot and onto the street.
I couldn't believe it. I was8 driving. I didn't know why I was scared in the first place-until I saw a speed sign that someone had run over. Scenes of9 car crashes flashed into my mind. I held the wheel tightly.
"Remember your first cycle ride?" He tried to10 my fear. "You kept falling off but you were so11 . I told you that you could do anything you set your mind to."
"Why did you make me drive today?" I asked. He said, "My12 was poorer, and I even ran into a sign. It's probably just my blood pressure again." My dad once again eased my fear.
13 , that was the last drive I had with my dad. It wasn't his blood pressure; it was14 that had given him only a few months to live. I never15 driving. Every time I get behind the wheel, I could feel his comforting hand on my shoulder.
