"Licence and registration, please."

I'd been waiting all day for 18:00 to roll around. Last night was going to be my first time go-karting.

I was just a coatrack the last time, watching from the sidelines in dress shirt, dress pants and heels. I was amazed at the control while my coworkers tore around the track at breakneck speeds, darting in and out at giant slalom speeds, taking the turns as if tethered to an elastic band. Exciting stuff.

We piled into my coworker's car. I was getting anxious. They chattered on about the last race (which I missed altogether): how So-and-So lapped What's-Their-Name twice, and how Who-Was-It-Again ended up in the grassy divide, and how That-Other-Person did a 360 spinout.

As we walked up to the race course and watched another group zip around hairpin turns, the excitement quickly fizzled into nerves. Completely flat soda. But I'd said I was going to race this time, so I wasn't about to bail. No way, no "weaker sex" here.... (Okay, so I was still jittery, but whatever!)

Once I was seated in the go-kart, fitted with a cushy helmet (that actually did fit!), I was in my element. Right, gas; left, break. No sweat.

They came by and started up the go-kart engines one by one, and one by one the karts peeled away from the pit stop. The steering wheel was stiff and suspension was minimal, but it was thrilling. I hoped my forearms wouldn't tire before the 10 minutes were up!

Cars behind were already passing me on the first lap. I rounded onto the straightaway and accelerated. I noticed a bunch of karts along the side. That was the last fleeting thought as I plowed straight into my coworker, propelling him forward 2 meters.

Oh. my. God.

No doubt there was a collective gasp from everyone (save the person I'd just rear-ended), but I didn't hear it. I froze. General bewilderment, lots of looking around, everyone must've been in shock. I'm sure my coworker's first thought was "WTF??", and not the "How did that happen??" that he told us after the race.

See, I didn't realise that we were supposed to do just one lap of the course and line up Indy-style. :(

The race track staff didn't know what else to do but to wave the flag and start the race.

I managed to pull it together for the race, but guilt and mortification were the theme words of the night. My coworkers joked about me caring for the victim for the rest of his life. I was completely laden with guilt and stricken with fear for any injury I may have caused. And I must've gone red whenever he was near, later back at the office. Couldn't even look him in the eye.

Today, he's been unavailable for comment. And so guilt continues to eat away at my innards.

Which is just as well, because the pre-race weigh-in claimed that Taiwanese food is too oily.