Would you like a ride? This is the question I always dreamed about being asked when ever I would make the long and tedious trek to school. Cars would zoom past me always making the most horrendous noise’s, these gargantuan machines with the godly power to transport me to my destination in a considerably shorter time than the time it would take to walk on my own two feet. These two feet are what would start me of on my journey every morning at 6. It would take me ten steps for the wooden panels to change into gravel in another 35 steps I was onto the asphalt and from there it was a long ride. After taking 500 steps from my doorstep I would step onto the main road where the torture would begin. Automobiles sailed by me always slowing down slightly to pretend they cared about avoiding me. These other beings were what I call “Thinkers”. As they passed me along the road and made there five-foot jump to the left they would stare at me, their eyes were filled with judgment. I could hear their thoughts through their disapproving gazes. “How can this child’s parents allow him to walk the treacherous journey to school”. These stares burning through my backpack and into my back were not the worst of it. Time passed with every step I took and eventually there would come a time when other students would start to appear on the road. Parents driving their precious children to school, these were the parents that would wake you up in the morning with breakfast in bed and allow you to come and jump into their bed’s and watch television until it was time to leave for school. Those were the “Luckies”. They were the ones that I envied. After them came the wave of students who were far enough in life to own their own vehicles. They would always fly by recklessly at speeds comparable to rocket ships. I would always stop and stare at them half expecting for their machines to slowly lift of the ground and take flight. I called them the “Suicidals”. When the occasional friend drove by they would always wave and smile at me, sometimes yelling at my from the window, These moments were the most agonizing parts, they gave me an illusion of hope one that would always be crushed as there machines whizzed past me without stopping to offer me a ride. No doubt they thought the walk to be character building for a child, parents always have these outrageous thoughts about matters relating there children and how tedious and labor intensive tasks often would help make their child a better person. I called these “Assholes”. These walks I made every morning did indeed help my character. They taught me how there are some people in this world who have their lives built for them and therefore never have to try to succeed. There are those who have the potential to succeed but end up going on a rocky and dangerous path eventually ending in there self destruction. There are some people who are just assholes and will always be there nagging you at the back of your brain trying to convince you that you are worse then them and at the same time trying to be your friend. There are some people will never have the thought to confront you face to face about any conflict but will instead choose to sit aside and judge your actions with the most severity. The people you want to meet are the ones who took the long and wearisome paths to there success. These people endured all the doubts others thrust upon them. They worked for years on projects that seemed to be ever beyond there reach. They carried the weight of the failure of others on there backs, but these are the people who dared to dream of those unthinkable possibilities. In the words of Thoreau “If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.” These are the people I aspire to be.