When I was a kid I read about a car crash that happened in the State of Ohio back in the late 1800’s in which two cars collided. The fact that there was an accident wasn’t that interesting, until you consider that they were the only two cars in the state of Ohio at the time. That story always stuck in my head because of the sheer implausibility.
So, I tried to verify this story. The best I could do was to come up with two conflicting accounts with the same premise – one set in 1895, the other in 1906 – both in Ohio. Even though the story is included in several different publications, it has all the earmarks of an urban legend.
But is it plausible?
I found that by making two simple changes in the story, it becomes not only plausible, but very believable. The simple changes are:
Replace “State of Ohio” with “My Driveway”
and
Replace “1906” with “Last Week”.
Yes. It is no longer an urban legend. I did, in fact, crash into my very own car in my very own driveway.
I’m so proud.
You see, our garage is on the side of the house, requiring a small 3-point turn to take a straight shot to enter the garage. I can do it in my sleep, and often do. Last week I pulled into the driveway, and reversed to swing the back end of my truck around. And the truck stopped. Confused, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw nothing. Side-view? Nothing. Then I turned around to look out the back window. There, tucked neatly into my blindspot, was one of my cars. With the ashen-faced FOMLs gripping the wheel.
Apparently, my impatient son figured there was a split-second opening were he could slip past me before I backed up, and park in his normal spot. He guessed wrong. Crunch.
Aha! Now was my test. A test to see what kind of man I am becoming. The test to see if D&C 121 is making inroads into my heart.
How did I respond? How would you respond?
Here is what I did: I sat in my truck, put my head on the steering wheel, and waited. I didn’t jump out to assess the damage. I didn’t look to see what my son was doing. I just sat. I was really angry. My mind raced through the list of substitute swear words that you all have so generously supplied (here), but found them lacking. I finally settled on “Aaaaaarrrgh!” a la Charlie Brown. It kinda did the job.
I then rolled down my window and motioned for my son to pull his car up so we could both park. I glanced at the damage, then walked to the mailbox. Meanwhile, my son was pacing around apologizing “Dad, I’m so sorry…”.
I got the mail, looked at my stricken son and said “I love you.” Then I went in the house, straight into my bedroom and shut the door.
How did I do?
You might not be impressed, you might think me cold, but I consider it a huge personal victory. The normal prescription for such an occurrence includes verbal fireworks, and huge quantities of guilt heaped upon the offending child. (Please note that I am not bragging. The fact that I even consider this a personal victory is evidence that I am deeply flawed and have a long way to go.)
—
Later, with a cooler head, I talked to my son, accepted his apology, and took the car to get the damage assessed. $1600. I also accepted 10% of the blame, and 100% of the responsibility for the deductible.
No swearing, no accusation, no yelling. One forgiven son. The stuff of legend.
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I’m not proud to say that I would have totally lost my cool. My dad was crazy angry all the time and would go postal about everything, and I inherited some of that from him. I’m trying (and am slowly succeeding) to do better, but man it’s hard when you’ve been programmed for so long to do something wrong! I wish I had had an example like you.
oh! what an idea to show love when anger is the initial emotion! Thanks for the reminder. much needed over here…
One time I when I was leaving to go somewhere I backed into the garage door. For some reason I thought the garage door was open…it wasn’t. Got my dad. He was really patient and nice about it. Helped me push out the dent so it would open, and I left. Later my dad had something big in the back of his truck and forgot about it, and drove into the garage…it messed up the garage more than what I did…plus the part of the garage above the garage door. He wasn’t happy. He was more mad at me when I would tell people that story than when I run into the garage. It pays for the parent to be patient with their kids…because they make mistakes too 🙂
I’m impressed you just said “I love you” and walked away for a minute.
Course, just yesterday I called my 7 year old a jerk for taking a book away from my 4 year old so my expectations start a little low..
That is INDEED the stuff of legends!
Just had my first driving lesson with my son and you inspired me to be WAY more calm and patient with him. We thank you MMM for your example on how to get through these trying times.
(Anon/M) Aww shucks…You’ve done good, MMM. Unless your pants are on fire, you’ve proven to be a true leader and an example to us all. Just like that overdressed brother, with the 1975 haircut, and manfully-fisted stance on the right, you’ve let the Lord’s arm be around your shoulders and his hand over your mouth. You’re Dad of the Year in my book.
I am impressed. Your response was a lesson for us all. Too often I have found myself yelling first and thinking later. Since I started giving myself mommy time-outs I’m getting a little better. But cracking up the car? That would challenge anyone’s self-control. Something to think about as my daughter takes her permit test next week.
You don’t give yourself enough credit. You were fabulous. The stuff of great dads.
I burned down my mother’s entire kitchen when I was 12. She also made a bee line to her room. No, “I love you” but still i got off pretty easy. 🙂
Wow, I see you’ve gained a few more followers since I last visited. That’s great!
This is incredible. Reminds me of the time when I was a kid that I left the car out of gear and it rolled into our house, causing MAJOR damage to both. I really should blog about that. Doubt that it would be as funny as this post.
Good good for you. You just taught you son a lesson he will never forget. I crashed into our garage backing up once, clipped the front of the car on the garage- I was sure my dad was going to freak. He pretty much said, be careful backing up and sent me on my way. A turning point in our relationship with a man I used to mostly be afraid of.
FOML #1: Did it bring back memories of when you wrecked my truck?
I’m proud of you, Dad!
I AM very proud of you! I know how hard that was. Great example! Kudos to you!
A moment to be proud of, MMM. Bang-up job. *;-.) You have become teachable.
Great story and a perfect example of think-first, react-second parenting. I’ve pulled the “head on the steering wheel” maneuver a few times myself but it hasn’t always produced the same calming effect, so kudos to you!
My father taught me how to drive a stick shift when I was a teenager. One Saturday we were carousing the church parking lot for a little driving practice when I mistook the gas pedal for the brake, violently jumped the curb and scared half the pine needles off an innocent bystander tree by finally coming to a stop just inches from its trunk. I remember dad yelping for a couple seconds but then he quickly regained composure and calmly helped me back off the curb through my copious teenage-angst tears. It’s one of the very few times in my life I’ve seen my father angry.
He was and remains to this day my hero.
Ahh, I am jealous of your self-control. I am glad to see people taking advantage of the “mommy (or daddy)time-out”. I have locked myself in my room for their protection, but over much smaller infractions. I hope I can do the big ones when they come…
I think that you did an amazing thing by pausing first and forgiving him. You are a great example indeed.
Ouch. Well done, MMM. Well done.
By the time I was driving, my father had mastered this calm approach (thanks to my older brother). As a kid I would have prefered his anger to the quiet calm forgiveness.
My own record on this matter is mixed. I prefer to remember the good examples more than the bad, so I’ll assume my record is trending toward the positive.
my dad passed away at age 53…the one thing I remember most about him was how forgiving he was. Through my life it has made it really easy for me to go to My Father in Heaven and ask for forgiveness because of his example. That has to be one of the greatest gifts he gave me. I don’t postpone repentance. I know forgiveness is waiting for me with unconditional love. I tell you this only because one day when you aren’t around your kids will remember that and be grateful. Good job MMM 🙂
Indeed. Outstanding. Well-done! I’m deeply impressed and I mean that. Your kids are blessed. They have a dad with a good heart and a great sense of humor. And, apparently, infinite patience. Three very important parenting attributes.