My bonneville is a fire hazard at the moment, seeing as one of my valves is broken and sending exhaust fumes into various parts of the engine and melting various wires and other fun and expensive parts. She'* sitting in our shop at home.
In the interim, Dad lent me his beautiful cherry red metal flake special edition 1995 Ford F-150, with the instructions that I was only to go to work and back, find parts, and get groceries (they were a lot easier to fit in the Bonnie
). After I got groceries last night, I stopped at a friend'* on my way home. I put the groceries in her fridge so they wouldn't go bad. Dad called me and asked me to come straight home, so I did. However, I left a bag of important (to me at least :P ) groceries in her fridge. Tonight I went to get them back.
On my way out, I didn't see a short cement pole over my tailgate. I bowed in the back bumper...BAD. Thankfully, there was no damage to the tailgate or any other part of the truck. I called him in hysterics on my way home. He was pretty POed.
By the time I got home, he had calmed down, and told me about some of the mistakes he'* made with other trucks, and that one too. He told me that he loved me more than his truck and that it could be fixed, though he'd want me to pay for a new bumper. I agreed.
Fifteen minutes later, we were in the shop with a loader tractor, a chain, a 20lb sledge, and the truck. I watched daddy tug on his beloved truck with a loader tractor and hit it with a sledge, just to save me some money. And the bumper'* pretty straight now, too!
And all you parents had better remember this when your kids start driving...cause we all mess up. Each and every person has. Cars can be replaced. People can't. Tonight was a shining example of why my father is my hero.