It was a moment of truth. I had no choice. I was sixteen and had been given the privilege of taking out the family car by myself for the very first time.
I called my dad to inform him that I had flipped the car over. Thankfully, no one was hurt.
When I arrived home, not knowing what to expect, I went to my father and stood by his chair. Reading the paper, he looked up and calmly said, "You've had a pretty expensive evening tonight haven't you, son?" Mixed in with my acknowledgement was a great sigh of relief.
