I remember the first time I drove a three-wheeler. I had ridden on the back with older cousins driving, but I had never been the one in control. There was an overwhelming sense of nervousness as I grabbed the handlebars and placed my thumb on the throttle. I knew where the gear shift was—just near my left foot. I took a deep breath and gave it a little gas. It began to move! A thrill ran through my entire being.
As I drove, I got more confident. Then I got arrogant, believing I was in control. But as I turned a corner, I hit a root—or maybe a large rock—and my thumb slammed down on the throttle. I was absolutely not in control. The machine underneath me was the real master. I was, in all reality, simply trying to hold on and manage it the best I could.