I got my license when I turned sixteen. I was a decent enough driver and got more time behind the wheel than most, thanks to Dad.

It didn't take long before I started wanting to just drive around. I had practically nothing in the way of a social life at the time, but while I had nowhere to go I determined that I really liked to drive.

We had two cars at the time: a Dodge Caravan and a red convertable. Unsurprisingly, I chose the latter. My earliest driving exploits were up and down Nasa Road 1, the only street in the area I was familiar with. At some point I discovered Red Bluff, a rural road oasis in Pasadena. It had a whopping 55mph speed limit. I felt like I was flying. In a testament to my dangerous streak, when I had the road to myself I would even take my seat belt off for minutes at a time before putting it back on.

I have this odd tick about never wanting turn around and drive back the way I came, so I eventually settled on a <45mph circle on Highway 146, Nasa Rd. 1, and Red Bluff. While I could have gone faster and drove on the 55mph stretch of Red Bluff as well as 50/40 Bay Area Blvd (the "Clear Lake Loop" in my terminology), the RedBluff/146/NR1 ("Seabrook Loop") had something the Clear Lake Loop: A view of the city skyline.

Okay, it wasn't really the city skyline. It was a refinery off in the distance. But all of the lights and immediate pollution made me think it could have been the Houston skyline. At that point, I didn't know what the skyline really looked like. To this day, off in the distance, it looks like some sort of hellish, futuristic Apokalypse city (comic book reference).

It wasn't long after that I got frustrated with going around in circles and decided to start driving southbound on 146 to wherever it was that I would get bored and start driving back. 146 gets really dark in some places, which made it all the more exciting.

My biggest adventure was a road trip up to Katy. Except that it was absolutely the most boring drive ever because I was still afraid of urban (and suburban) freeways, so I took the ultra-long way on Highway 6. So instead of flying by at 55mph, I was stopping at countless stopsigns with a speed limit that often dipped to 35mph. But I eventually got to where I was headed.

My first foray on to urban freeways was by accident. I was finally able to muster up the courage to drive on the freeway. My trips down 146 were replaced by flying down Interstate 45 towards Galveston. I always headed towards Galveston because, lest I end up in the big, bad city, it was the only direction I could go. The speed limit was still 55mph (by federal law at the time), but I never had to stop! Woooweeee!

Well one day I was driving in my car with Jay and we went northbound on I45 for reasons I cannot entirely recall. At some point, I missed the last exit before the big, bad city and found myself accidentally turning off on the eastern arm of 610. This had me freaking out on a number of levels. First, I'd gotten off the only freeway that I'd known. Second, I had somehow managed to end up by the sea (Houston sea port) despite going in what I thought was the opposite direction. And third, I had somehow jumped from Interstate Forty-Five to Six-Hundred-And-Ten... that's a factor of 13.5555555555555555! I calculated this number in my head as I flew down the freeway in abject horror.

That was the last time I took the freeway for a long, long time. Two months at least. Maybe four!