See also: 'Blank Slate' seen as threat to retirement saving 

I didn't like driving standards when I was a teenager. I figured you only needed to know how to drive a standard transmission if you wanted to race muscle cars. Back then, I had no desire to experience the thrill of attaining high speeds in a few precious seconds. 

Back then I was pretty boring. 

Nonetheless, I suffered through my training on a standard transmission. I learned one thing rather quickly, once you get into first gear, it's really easy to move into second, third and fourth gears. (The term "four on the floor" refers to a car with four gears and a floor-mounted stick shift. That used to be a big thing. Then they invented fifth gear, overdrive and an automatic transmission that nearly equaled those early standards for attaining high speeds in a few precious seconds. How do I know this? Let's just say I was a lot less boring once my father convinced me I really wanted to buy a Camaro Z-28 rather than one of them there "K" cars.) 

The trick, as everyone who has ever driven a standard can attest, is getting into first gear. When first learning how to drive standards, I had problems getting into first gear. Lots of problems. Every time you stopped the car, you had to take it out of gear and then put it back into first gear. It was during this period that I developed intense hatred for stop signs, red lights and the casual pedestrian intent on crossing in front of my oncoming vehicle. 

Getting into first gear was tough. Real tough. 

But, like I said, after that, it was smooth sailing. Heck, I felt like Mario Andretti taking the standard out on the open highway. It was a feeling that fueled a latent desire within me, one I didn't know even existed. My father knew, though. That's why he knew I had to buy the Z-28. Candy apple red. T-Tops. Everything but electric windows, cruise control and leather interior. This is not the automobile one pictures the captain of the high school chess team to purchase, but, after college, that me was long gone. 

Fortunately, my hot rod persona emerged just as my ability to save in a 401(k) plan did. I had no trouble getting into first gear when it came to saving for my retirement. I did exactly what the math suggested. I maxed out my contribution. After only about a decade of contributions, I stopped contributing to devote all excess money to my new business. I didn't take anything out of my 401(k). Over the past twenty years, those assets have grown to a point where I'm well ahead of the game. In a sense, I put my original 401(k) plan on cruise control and I've been cruising ever since. 

All thanks to the fact that I wasn't afraid to floor it in first gear.

We need more 401(k) savers with a hot rod mentality. Trouble is, while most younger folks have no problem putting the pedal to the metal when it comes to their car, once they shut that engine down, they revert to their risk-averse alter-ego. Why is this so? Perhaps they're more comfortable with their car than with their 401(k). Perhaps their 401(k) doesn't offer than same macho affirmation as the need for speed does. 

When trying to encourage new savers, remember how it felt when you first tentatively popped the clutch into first gear only to hear that awful sound of gears grinding. This is how 401(k) savers often feel. 

But don't forget the feeling of cruising on the open road. The challenge is to help 401(k) participants visualize the financial equivalent of riding along with the power of 350 horses.

If they see it, they will save for it.