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Turning 18: Friday, columnist becomes an adult

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wave Detroit Lakes, 56501
Detroit Lakes Minnesota 511 Washington Avenue 56501

Remember being a little kid and always wanting to be looked at as "grown up," or treated like one? I remember those days. It definitely doesn't feel like it was that long ago.

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I still remember the feeling of freedom I got when my parents finally let me leave the block on my bike, or let me stay at a friend's house for the whole weekend. The feeling of growing up is something a kid always looks forward to -- at least until you actually get there.

I guess it's weird to think, this is the last column I'll ever right as a true adolescent. I honestly have mixed feelings about it all. I've been a kid my entire life, and once Friday comes around, I'll never (technically) be one again.

I guess I don't really know how to deal with all that. I've heard multiple adults say, "childhood is the best of times." I guess I can't agree or disagree until I find out, but I'm still gonna miss a lot of the fun times I had growing up.

I remember my first sleepover. I was in first grade, and my best friend at the time was named Michael Trieglaff. We were like brothers, and I still remember the details of what the inside of his house looked like.

Anyway, I stayed at his house for the first time (or attempted to), and we played with Pokemon cards, watched Star Wars and ended the night by telling ghost stories. I told this ghost story I had made up. I called it the story of "Old Man Dylan."

Well, the story was a definite success. It even did the job of scaring myself, so bad I actually ended up going home.

We both took that story to heart, and at school later that week, I had told it to all of our friends. My friend, Dallas, laughed the other day as we remembered the entire class digging up the playground, searching for Old Man Dylan. We chuckled about that.

Imagination was definitely my art as a young child, but I remember when I was a little bit older, and my mom decided I was finally ready for my first driving lesson. I was 13 years old, and we were driving to Bemidji to visit my grandma.

We were about seven miles down County Road 37 when my mom just randomly pulled over and told me I was going to learn to drive.

I got in the driver's seat, put the car in drive and floored it. My mom was grasping her door like she just took a ride on the Power Tower and told me how much better I was at driving than my dad (which was obviously a lie considering she looked like she had just wet her pants).

I eventually got the hang of it, though, and after a few tries, I could actually drive well enough to not scare the crap out of my mom.

It's memories like these that highlight my childhood and will definitely be missed a lot, but on the other hand, I'll finally get to take on the role of being an adult.

I guess I don't know if I'm ready, but ready or not here it comes.

Jonah Bowe is a senior at Detroit Lakes High School.

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