Selective Fear

The thought of riding a motorcycle through some of the most dangerous countries in the world is scary for some people; for me, not really. What was scary to me was the thought of swimming in Cold Lake, or amicably known as Buttermilk Slough. None of us had ever even considered going into this thing, but when Bonnie asked if you could swim in it, I realized how afraid I was of it. My dad then proceeded to tell us how Davey Lovell almost lost a big horse in the quicksand there years ago, and how, when he walked across it one exceptionally dry summer, the floor moved as if techtonic plates. Very unnerving! So, what exactly is this fear? It seems to be the fear of the unknown, if one were to generalize. What kind of bugs are there in there? How much goose poop and seaweed cover the bottom? My imagination simply get the best of me, and make it abundantly clear that we are all scared of something.
I am scared of people in authority, or decision makers in business. I am scared that they are going to say something not nice, or I'm going to feel uncomfortable, so I do everything possible to avoid being rejected: talk a lot, be very nice and don't ask for anything.