The passing of a childhood hero

I was watching the 1982 Belgian Grand Prix at my friend George's house the day my hero died. As we watched, Gilles Villeneuve was involved in a devastating crash with Jochen Mass. I was stunned, but stubbornly hoped that somehow he'd survive. Later that afternoon, the official announcement was made that Gilles had passed. Though my parents tried, I could not be consoled and spent most of the night crying.

On Monday morning, I overheard a few of the older kids on the school bus making insensitive and callous remarks about what had happened. I stewed on their words...and became consistently angrier as the day went on. When the bell rang at 3:30, I made my way onto the bus and I confronted one of the kids from that morning to tell him what I thought. He called me something to the effect of a "cry-baby" and pushed me so I hard I fell; landing on my back.

Up to this point in my life I'd been somewhat shy and tended to keep to myself and out of trouble's way...but this set something off in me I'd never felt before. I bounded up off the floor and tackled him. In between bus seats, I proceeded to reduce him to a sobbing, slobbery mess.

Gilles Villeneuve's life as a race car driver definitely influenced mine - and his death marked a significant change in me as well. His tragic passing made me realize the importance of loyalty and courage. Defending my hero was the first time I stood up to a bully - and ever since, I face my fears head on.