Death Ride to the Museum

That Time My Friend's Crazy Driving Nearly Gave Me a Heart Attack.

I love a good road trip adventure. Pile in the car with friends, roll down the windows, queue up a catchy playlist, and hit the open highway. What's not to love? But there's road trip fun and then there's clutching the seat for dear life while your friend pretends he's a stunt driver in The Fast and the Furious. Unfortunately, I learned the difference between those the hard way.

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It all started when my buddy Deji asked if I wanted to tag along on a Saturday trip to the national museum. He needed to pick up some research materials for a school project. The museum was about two hours away, but it sounded like a nice easy road trip. And I love checking out cool artifacts and exhibits on the weekend, so I was totally game.

We hopped in Deji's shiny new SUV early that morning, and at first, everything was chill. We cruised along with the windows down, letting the sunshine and morning breeze come streaming in. I was enjoying watching the scenery zip past while Deji kept pace with traffic. He's usually a careful driver, so I figured we were in for an easy, uneventful ride. Boy was I wrong.

Because about an hour into the trip, once we got out of the crowded city and onto an open highway, something suddenly came over Deji. He got a mischievous grin on his face and started accelerating, going 20 km/h over the speed limit. I gave him a puzzled look but didn't say anything at first. But then he really slammed his foot on the gas pedal, rocketing us up to 140 km/h.

Now I was gripping my seatbelt for dear life, eyes wide. "Hey man, ease up a little!" I urged him nervously. But he just laughed and cranked up the music, leaning back with one hand lazily on the wheel. I was amazed he could still steer as we flew down the road far faster than anyone else.

At this point, I was really panicking, picturing fiery crashes in my head. "Deji, seriously, slow down!" I pleaded. "This isn't funny!" But he brushed me off again, insisting he had it all under control. As if to prove his point, he took one hand completely off the wheel and pounded the dashboard to the beat of the song.

That's when I was certain we were both going to die. The car was swerving like crazy as Deji "drove" with just his knees. I was preparing to jump right out the window at this point. But suddenly, Deji yanked the wheel hard to the right and sent us into a wide fishtail maneuver. We spun nearly 180 degrees before straightening out, the whole back half of the SUV drifting sideways.

Deji whooped and hollered, celebrating his slick "stunt driving" moves. Meanwhile, I nearly had a heart attack in the passenger seat. I could feel my soul trying to leave my body as we careened recklessly down the road. Finally, Deji eased off the gas and brought us back to normal speed, still snickering to himself.

The rest of the drive I sat in stunned, furious silence, holding my breath the entire way. As soon as we parked at the museum, I jumped out and kissed the solid, safe ground. I don't know how, but we'd made it in one piece despite Deji's crazy joyride. On the way back, you better believe I made our other friend who we met at the museum to drive us home, keeping it at a sedate 80 km/h even as Deji complained.

My friend still laughs about our "fun road trip memory" while I maintain it was among the most traumatizing experiences of my life. Let's just say I'm never getting in the car with him again unless someone else offers to drive! Some things you only need to survive once.