Ah, the Flintstones...owners of the original hybrid. Oddly, it also closely resembles my first car, except mine was slightly more boxy. That's right: my first car was a station wagon, wood paneling included.
I can only imagine the terrible paradox a parent experiences before a child is about to get their drivers license. You've spent 16 years carting their asses around, and now here is your light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, how nice it would be to spend a night at home watching ABC's Monday night lineup with a glass of wine rather than freezing your bum off waiting for your kid to finish hockey practice. But do you really trust them...? Really trust them with your car?
If you are smart, no, you do not. Borrowing your child your car will most surely end in disaster and destruction -- it's really just a matter of when it will end in disaster and destruction. In my case, it took exactly 30 days, a slurpee, and a couple trees.
I was riding with my sister that fateful night, and before I go into detail on what happened and how it could have been avoided, a brief history of the relationship between my sister and I from ages birth - present: we fought a lot, yet insisted on hanging out together all the time. It would be safe to say we are both relatively extremely stubborn, and are not to keen on losing anything --- especially arguments.
Well, mid-driving, the slurpee hits the floor, and thus the inciting incident:
Liz: you IDIOT!!!! it's all over!!!!
Me: it's not my fault!!! don't blame me!!! There was a malfunction with the cup holder, obviously!!!
Liz: You are a clumsy buffoon.
Me: *grasping for the cup on the ground* Don't help me pick it up or anything!
Liz: I didn't drop it!!!!
Me: *head under the steeling wheel trying to retrieve slurpee* I am NEVER driving you ANYWHERE ever AGAIN!!! You are useless!!!
Both in unison: OH. MY. GOD!!!! Aggghhhh!!!!
*crash into trees*
So, it turns out I won that argument -- I didn't get to drive her anywhere for quite some time. Because I had just totaled my parents car.
No, they were not pleased with me, and to my horror, my next car ended up being another station wagon, except with more rust on it than the last one. I would have to say the worst part about it though is that this single incident established my reputation as the "bad driver" in my family/circle of friends. My brother has totalled approximately 3 cars (one of them the aforementioned 2nd station wagon) and rolled several others in his 5 years of having his license (and for 2 of those years, his license was suspended), yet I remain the bad driver. Another interesting tidbit is that though I was the "bad driver", I always somehow ended up being the driver. If a group of friends went out, though all of us had cars, I ended up driving while they heckled me from the back seat for being a "bad driver". Why didn't I ever tell them to shut their pie holes and that they can drive their owns cars if they hated my driving so much, I will never know....
However, though I have never been in another major accident since the fateful forest expunge of '99, to rid myself of my reputation is a battle that I don't think I will ever win.
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