I like to think of myself as a good driver. I once got really excited at two in the morning blasting 'Star Wars' and got pulled over for speeding (in the middle of nowhere, really?), but that is about the only thing I've ever done that got me in trouble. Every other ticket I've ever gotten was not directly my fault. I learn my lessons well.
However, I do have one slight problem; I can't back up a car to save my life. I understand that this is a side effect of being female and that I'm not alone, but I'm pretty much convinced that everyone can survive as long as I'm not backing up.
I don't know where I was going, but my dad had given me permission to take his convertible. I was still somewhat unseasoned in the art of driving, and my younger brother came out to watch me back up out of the garage. He wasn't doing a very good job at spotting me, because I suddenly heard a scraping sound somewhere from my right side next to the edge of the garage door. Oh dear. Put the car in park, turn off the engine, and dive out of the car to inspect the damage. TJ did me the favor of running inside to tell my dad the wonderful news.
There was indeed a scrape, and I had managed also to snap off a reflector. Dad was furious. He looked at the part, and he looked at me and shouted 'You're going to want to be gone by the time I get back, or it's your head!' Angry dads are scary.
I don't remember why, it may have had something to do with business, but Dad went back inside. I looked at my smug little brother and asked him what he thought I should do.
'I don't know, hide?' he replied.
Great. Where was I supposed to hide in an open yard with a neatly trimmed lawn and no trees? This was my head, we were talking about! I could lose it at any moment!
I glanced around and a thought came to me. The Pathfinder was parked in the garage next to the convertible. The Pathfinder was unlocked. BUT! The Pathfinder's trunk space was not the best concealed as it was a small sport utility vehicle, and there were windows looking in. Dad could still see me. I'd risk it.
I exchanged a tearful goodbye with my brother. This might be the last time I saw him with my skull still attached to my spine. My plan began to form in my brain as I opened the hatch to the Nissan. Dad would come out, he would be angry, he would see that I'd gone, and he'd go back inside. Then I would make a run for it and make my way to my friend's house and beg for sanctuary.
Well, Dad walked out. I was crouched down in a fetal position in the Pathfinder, shaking in my boots. 'WHERE IS SHE?!' Oh man, I was DEAD! There was no point in trying to hide...
I popped my head up and looked at my dad through the window and cried, 'I'M RIGHT HERE!!' When I say 'cried' I mean it. I was so scared that I'd fallen to pieces. One look at my pathetic attempt (and very much a failure for giving myself away) at trying to hide and noticing the tears in my eyes, he... laughed. He was laughing right at me as though he weren't going to kill me. What a sadist.
He opened the hatch and pulled me out, still laughing, 'Why didn't you drive away in the convertible? You have the keys, and it's not as though you smashed the thing to bits.'
That hadn't occurred to me. Blast it all, I COULD have just driven away, 'B-b-b-but you wer-r-r-e M-M-M-A-HA-A-AD!' I was still quite shaken and tearful. He pat me on the back lovingly and told me that he was, but that I'd just have to save my allowance for a while and fix it. No big deal.
The next time was worse.
It was the Pathfinder this time and a blue truck we'd gotten that was supposed to be my graduation present, only he'd made the mistake of making it a clutch rather than an automatic. I'm not stupid, but I couldn't for the life of me learn to coordinate the whole shifting mechanism in that truck, and so I never drove it. I think I'd hurt his feelings because it was a gift, but it really hurt MY feelings when we'd go out driving in the church parking lot and he'd yell at me in his drill sergeant tone that I was a bleeping idiot because I couldn't figure out how to drive.
So the truck sat on the street. We lived at the end of a court at that time, so you had to turn to get out of drive, and every time I turned, the truck would be right behind. I'd done it a million times though, no big deal.
One day, however, my parents were at Costco and had told me that I was not to take the Pathfinder anywhere without permission. Normally I wouldn't break a rule like that, but today was different. They'd be gone a couple of hours, and I could always refill the tank to where I started. They'd never know right? WRONG!
I backed up too far and rammed right into the truck creating a great dent in the side. What do I do then? Well, like any honest (and honestly stupid) daughter, I immediately put the car back and called my parents to inform them that I'd just made a big booboo. Better to fess up now than to suffer the consequences later, right? I try to take problems like this head on.
Dad was livid. According to my mother, he made quite a scene of it at Costco and drew too much attention to himself. 'YOU STAY THERE WE'RE COMING TO GET YOU!' he shouted over the phone at me.
Staying there would have hardly been instinctual. You usually read in the stupid news section about criminals making threats like this prior to committing a crime, only to find themselves under arrest when they arrive at the scene of the would be assault. If I valued my life, I would have run away. But I didn't. I sat like an obedient daughter on the couch and waited the forty five minutes it took for them to purchase the items they needed and drive the twenty miles home. This time he didn't laugh, but he had cooled down. I didn't cry, but I was very sorry.
Then there was that one time at the beach, but nobody knows about that. I've learned that what goes unnoticed doesn't need attention brought to it.
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