Before I had learned how to drive anything other than a go-cart, my stepdad asked me to move my mom’s car out of our driveway. I must have been 12 or 13. Was always so excited to learn how to drive, and had begged my mom to take me out to empty parking lots to learn, but we never did it.
So I’m backing my mom’s car out of the driveway so my stepdad can get his police cruiser out. I take a wide loop, cutting the wheel hard and having zero plans for how I’m actually gonna maneuver the car to get it out of my stepdad’s way.
I keep looping, forming what is basically a half circle, leaving our driveway in reverse and then circling back straight towards our own yard. I back straight into our neighbor’s van that is parked on the street just beyond our driveway.
I was scared shitless, and my stepdad did something he had never ever done (and he was sometimes the cliche “tough guy” stepdad that was constantly on my ass and giving me grief when he maybe didn’t need to): complete and absolute silent treatment for our entire car ride to school after he finished moving both cars.
I expected yelling, screaming, berating, maybe threats to my person… but he was so mad he didn’t even know what to say. Just sitting next to him for the 30 min drive to school, wondering what his words would be when he finally spoke, was probably scarier than anything he could have said or did.
When we got there, he finally said “I’m too mad to trust myself to speak, but it’s mostly my fault for not taking you to practice.”
I was then terrified to drive for the next two or three years until I finally got my temps and got comfortable behind the wheel.
