I really like cars. And when I was a teenager, I thought I could make a living competing in cars and entering car shows. But when I told my parents about this, I was only 16 at the time, and when I told them I needed a certificate from them that I could drive like this, they refused to sign it. They said it was because I had signed a consent form so I wouldn\’t kill myself in the car. They said that was like me signing that I would be in a wheelchair or dead. Of course, for the first couple of weeks I was really angry with my parents.
I didn\’t even want to talk to my parents, and even I was stupid enough to consider running away from home. And I realized I didn\’t know where to go. I would be like a homeless person. Then the police would find me somewhere and return me to my parents anyway, and they would be humiliated by the neighbors. Then I would be grounded. I couldn\’t drive a car competitively, which I could do at the age of 18, but I figured I\’d get my license and have some fun when I turned 18.
I would drive my car wherever I wanted and travel. I also tell myself that once I get my license, I will protect it like an eye in my head. I don\’t want the police to confiscate my license afterwards, even if only for a short time. I always want to drive carefully and follow the rules. But when I wanted to drive a racing car, it was racing. In racing everyone has to go fast, but on the road I follow all the necessary rules and I don\’t mind at all.”