Dad Will Never Know

DAD WILL NEVER KNOW!

We were two happy-go-lucky teenagers out for a drive on a Sunday afternoon. My brother Larry was 16 and I was 17, a very recent, overconfident, high school graduate. We were in the same Sunday School class and were attending a party at our Pastor's house.

Larry had just gotten his Temporary Learning Permit and was bursting at the seams with the anticipation of getting his Driver's License. He started begging and wheedling for me to let him drive. I knew better for two reasons. One, we were driving Dad's car; two, Dad was very strict and his main rule was that we had to ask permission for EVERYTHING we did. Did I mention it was the sixties when parents were less permissive than today?

Larry kept it up and he knew just how to push my buttons: wasn't I a licensed driver; didn't I consider myself a responsible adult; wasn't I old enough to make a decision on my own? Besides, it was Sunday and there was very little traffic; we were only about five miles from home, what could happen? He was relentless and I gave in. After all, Dad would never know.

Larry drove smoothly and safely and I was patting myself on the back for being the best big sister ever. We came to a stop sign where we had to turn left onto a through street. The cars were whooshing by pretty steadily, but all strung out so we couldn't pull out. He saw an opening coming up. Several cars were slowing down with their left signals blinking to turn across in front of us to enter the street we were on. Then came another two cars which were separated by a wide enough space for us to enter the flow. Larry started letting off of the brakes and easing into the intersection so he could make a quick turn. Then, suddenly, the third car swung across in front of us to turn left without signaling or slowing down, and CRUNCH! We met in the intersection.

We all jumped out of the cars to check the damage. It wasn't as bad as it had sounded. There was hardly any damage at all. Our bumper had scratched the other car's bumper. The other driver was an older man who immediately started screaming and ranting about teenage drivers being so careless and causing so much damage. He insisted on calling the police and made us leave the car right there in the intersection so the police would be able to assess the accident. I don't know what he told them but two squad cars arrived with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

They quickly moved us out of the street. My brother and I were put in the back of one squad car and the older man was in the back of the other. We were sitting there contrite and humiliated, not sure what was going to happen, when a car pulled up next to the squad car and Dad got out of it! He approached the police officers and the other driver, talked a little bit, and shook hands with all of them. Then he walked toward us with one of the officers who opened the door and freed us. The police officer handed my brother a ticket and told us to be on our way. Dad had taken care of everything with the other driver.

We had hoped Dad would never know about our misadventure but luckily he had found out. A neighbor had been passing the accident scene, saw the police cars and us standing there and had gone straight to Dad to let him know. Dad had immediately come to the accident scene to be with us. Thank God, Dad had found out and knew exactly what to do.

My brother's permit was suspended for a while and that was definitely the end of my short career as a driving instructor!


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