Starting college felt a lot like learning to navigate the 1978 Corvette I bought at sixteen, a car my dad and I loved for its curves and character but also one that tested me with constant stalls and unpredictable breakdowns. When I arrived on campus, balancing labs, practices, and the heavy rhythm of freshman life often felt like trying to coax that engine to stay alive at a stoplight, hoping it would not cut out the moment I needed it to move. I had days where I felt frozen between responsibilities, moments when the pressure of being so far from home and keeping up with academics and softball made me feel like I was stalling out before I even had a chance to accelerate.
But growing up working through the quirks of that Corvette shaped the way I handled these challenges. I had spent years dealing with a car that would fail if the temperature leaned even slightly in the wrong direction, one whose distributor and carburetor forced me to be patient and persistent. Every time I managed to start it again, or make it through a drive without it dying in traffic, I learned that progress comes in small, meaningful wins.
That same mindset carried into my college experience, where each good grade, strong practice, or moment of personal clarity felt like the familiar click of the ignition finally catching. My dad had always taught me to appreciate things that were beautiful even when they were impractical, to value what requires care and understanding, and that perspective helped me embrace the messier parts of transitioning into independence.
The resilience I built from that car became the foundation for how I navigate college now, reminding me that setbacks are part of the process and that the most rewarding experiences often come from what you choose to keep working on, even when it would be easier to walk away.
