My car came into my possesion through a form of inheritance. My father bought a new car so he gave me his old one, a Nissan Maxima. The car was far from new when I got it, unlike my driving experience, with a odometer amassing 97,000 miles. However, the car was in good condition then and remains in respectable condition today.
Before I got my own car back in the early driving days of highschool, I was left scrapping for a set of wheels anytime I wanted to do my own thing. So I borrowed cars, from my parents, grandparents, and every blue moon a friends car, which was always under sketchy circumstances with the rents. These cars were normally used without caution and any respect to anyone else on the road or myself. Many times I was just downright reckless, but I liked the thrill of beating stop-lights, holding sharp turns and curves, or just gunning it down a straight-away. I had many close calls, but luckily escaped them all with nothing more then a couple of scratches and broken mirrors.
I guess my poor decision making was fueled by imaturity, but once I got my own car my bad habits changed. I do not know if it was the scary moments, or the fact that I realized I wanted the car to last, or maybe I just respect society more as I try to grow away from my at times reckless highschool years.
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