Does Debbie

Friday, September 16, 2005

My Dad's Car

This story goes back several years ago... I was home visiting my parents for Thanksgiving holiday and borrowed my dad's car to go meet some friends at the local bar. My dad used to drive a black Nissan Maxima (foreshadowing.) The bar was about a 5 minute's drive from my dad's and I think I might have driven one of my friends as well (all key to story.)

The next morning, I was awoken at 7:30am by my father, when he barged into my room, and demanded to know "where the hell I took the car last night." Hmmm. This seemed to be a weird reaction from dad. I told him that I went to the Tavern, dropped off a friend and then came home. He then asked if I noticed any construction along the way. Interestingly, I did. When I was dropping off my friend, I saw that there were orange cones in the middle of the road, and it looked like they were painting. But no streets were closed. No men were flagging traffic. I though all was good.

Oooooh nooooo.

Dad dragged me downstairs to show me just what I did. Along the entire driver's side of the black car were streaks of yellow paint. Not just a drop or two. Clearly someone (um, me) had driven through a newly painted median line, and took half of it with them.

I wanted to die on the spot.

To dad's credit, he was ultra cool. He blamed the county, not me. He paid for the repairs, not me. He let me drive the car again. And I gave him a good story to share.


1 Comments:

  • At 12:05 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    And to this day, he doesn't let Debbie (or I) drive his car... Thanks, Debbie!

     

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