Undocumented, and Riding Shotgun
I Thought I Was an Average American Teen Until I Tried to Get a Driver’s License
Up until my early 20s, I rode shotgun. With my high school and college sweetheart, I flipped through the soft sleeves of our shared CD binder in search of the right music. I double-checked our drive-through orders for extra ketchup; I pointed out the sights only I caught in time. With my friends, I was the one who tuned the radio through static and made sure everyone in the backseat had enough air.
I was born in the Philippines. My cousins, brothers, and I used to take turns steering our …
