A Close Call


It was a hot summer day. My brother was driving us to the pool.

He had just gotten his license, and he was driving like a pro–looking at himself in the rear-view, while staying perfectly in his lane.  Then, he nonchalantly took the key out of the ignition and started picking his teeth with it.

The engine stopped, the steering wheel locked up, and our VW Beetle veered left into oncoming traffic.  We narrowly missed a large truck and then drifted into a ditch. The car never stopped moving forward.

My brother made the miraculous move of getting the key back into the ignition.  As he accelerated and navigated us out of the ditch, we barely missed hitting another car from which we heard brief screaming as we crossed back into our lane.  
What a skilled driver!

He was sure that I would tell Dad, so he gave me money to buy French fries at the pool. I told Dad anyway, and, in his angry voice, he yelled, “What are you? Some kind of jerks?!?” 
I didn’t protest that I had done nothing wrong. It was best just to keep silent, and look at the ground.


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