It was my first night home for Christmas break; it was also the first night winter had decided to actually act like winter. The snow was coming down and the wind was picking up, but yet I insisted on going to a friend’s house. I hadn’t seen anyone in weeks, and their house was only a half-mile away anyway, what could go wrong? Like parents do, mine insisted that I stay home, constantly worried for my safety. And like I do, I insisted that I would be fine, I mean c’mon, I have four-wheel drive. I then left with the promise to text them when I got there.
I made it the half-mile without any trouble. As I was pulling into my friend’s driveway I thought “Ha, I knew it wouldn’t be that bad.” I turned off my Jeep, grabbed my purse, and gave my door a nudge open without even giving a second thought to the wind that had picked up. As soon as the door whipped open, I knew something was broke. The sound said everything. It turns out the a combination of high winds, chintzy design, and my absentminded behavior can really mess up a car door.
The next day I had to tell my dad what happened. Even worse, I had to admit that he and my mom were (somewhat) right. The hinge on the door was bent, it made an ugly sound when you opened it because it was hitting the fender, and it was rubbing the paint. Just my luck. I spent the next 5 days climbing through the passenger seat to prevent further damage. Long story short, after Christmas was over we were able to get it fixed rather inexpensively. But here’s my question, what age will I be before my parents stop being right about everything?
Jenny
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