I was 15 years old and it was a warm Saturday. Dad decided that he wanted to wash our gently used mini-van, so he asked me to pull it onto the lawn. Since I didn’t have a license to drive, I was very eager for the chance to drive the van. I started it up, backed out of the driveway, and then successfully drove to the opening in the fence of the front yard. Not being used to driving a van (short nose and a long back) I under estimated the turn. After I pulled the nose of the van through the opening in the fence, I scraped the back-side panel along the fence post. I backed up and corrected my mistake, but when I got out of the van, I could see the scrapes in the paint. Knowing that if I told dad about the scrapes, he would never let me drive again. I decided to keep quiet.
Minutes later, dad came over with his bucket full of soapy water and wash rag. As I helped dad wash the van, I was horrified when he noticed the scrapes in the paint. Suddenly, dad paused as he ran his hands over the scrapes and muttered to himself, “Linda!” I was filled with both relief and guilt. Dad thought that mom had scraped the van. Eventually my conscious got the best of me and I confessed to dad. He handled the situation well, and I didn’t get in much trouble. But, I always laugh when I think of him muttering to himself, “Linda!”
Minutes later, dad came over with his bucket full of soapy water and wash rag. As I helped dad wash the van, I was horrified when he noticed the scrapes in the paint. Suddenly, dad paused as he ran his hands over the scrapes and muttered to himself, “Linda!” I was filled with both relief and guilt. Dad thought that mom had scraped the van. Eventually my conscious got the best of me and I confessed to dad. He handled the situation well, and I didn’t get in much trouble. But, I always laugh when I think of him muttering to himself, “Linda!”
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