Younger brother

 I recently turned sixteen, this may seem like a small deal but to me it was huge. Behind our house is a huge field where my sisters and I practice driving, well are supposed to practice.

   While back there one day I decided to drive my eight year old brother around. I’d hit the gas and we’d swerve around the corner of the field riding back and forth. The old truck took every bump and corner with ease. I thought I was the coolest brother in the history of big-brotherdom.

   I pulled up to the back of the house and parked the truck with my little brother in the passenger seat. I hopped out and asked him to sit still while I went and grabbed the garage door opener from inside. When inside I poured a drink, forgetting about the truck for a second. When I realized I ran outside and checked to make sure everything was okay. Panic set in when I realized the truck and my brother were nowhere in sight. I didn’t worry too much because I knew there wasn’t far to go and hopefully I hadn’t shown him too much. I ran out in the field and saw the old truck rumpling down the track at a steady three miles an hour. I smiled and quickly caught up to it and opened the passenger door. Hopping in I expected my brother to smirk and keep on going, but instead he floored it and we took off. I franticly reached for the emergency brake and snatched it up as fast as my arm would let me. We screeched to a halt and my brother cried uncontrollably. I sat back for just a second and let the adrenaline pumping through my veins settle down.

 

   My brother taught me one the most important things that I think could be handed over. Never underestimate anyone, regardless of age. I simply assumed that because he was younger than me nothing bad would come of it. I was wrong and will never let a small face be my demise, or his.