Picture this:

My dad is getting chemo for throat cancer, my family is in financial turmoil and I am dealing with a not-yet-understood alternative sexuality.

These were the perfect conditions for my first trip to jail.

When I was 14, I was very inspired by things I shouldn’t have been: Grand Theft Auto, "The Fast and Furious" franchise and Chamillionaire.

The summer of 2009 was filled with floating down the river, playing video games and my dad's SECOND battle with cancer.

#FUCKCANCERSOANNOYING

So my mom and dad had been driving to Seattle (a 12-hour drive) regularly to get chemo-therapy for this thing called “Thymic Carcinoma.” It’s throat cancer, basically.

What I mostly remember is that the doctors had to cut his vocal chords, and he sounded like Marge Simpson, so when he would try to yell at me for being a shit on the regular, he sounded raspy and hilarious and I couldn’t take him seriously.

So when my mom and dad would go to Seattle for chemo, they would leave me and my twin-sister in charge of the house to watch the dogs. They would also leave the keys to my dad’s 1999, bright red, Dodge Grand Caravan.

Also my first car. I was SO happening in high school.

I won’t get into the details of how I manipulated my sister (guilt), but I convinced her that it would benefit us to start taking the car to the store (instead of walking) so that we could get home to the dogs faster; you know, cause that’s what mom and dad would want.

My best friend, let’s call him Ned (who I strangely wanted to impress all of the time…) was part of the whole “borrowing” my dad’s car to go to the store thing. He and I would take the car, and leave my sister at home.*

*To clarify, we were all 14, below the legal age to drive. What we were doing was joyriding and is punishable as a misdemeanor.

Taking the car to the store was just a front for what Ned and I were REALLY doing. Ned and I would go out every night until three in the morning, and drive my dad’s Grand Caravan around the backroads of rural Southern Oregon, talking about life, looking up at the stars, holding hands… Wait, what? No, we never did that…

ANYWAYS.

One day, Ned I were watching "The Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift" and I’m sure some dialogue like this happened:

Me: “Man oh man! I sure wish my dad’s minivan could drift like they do in this movie, but shucks, it’s just too big.”

Ned: “Hey! My mom has a car that could totally drift if we wanted… Maybe we should BORROW* it.”

Me: “For SHIZZLE! What could possibly go wrong with borrowing** your mom’s car?”

**”Borrow" — like taking it without telling her... Stealing, really.

So the plan was: To “borrow" Ned's mom’s car, take it joyriding and then return it, no harm no foul. A well-thought out, kosher plan.

So that night, Ned and I sneak into his apartment. We grab the spare keys and we go out to the parking lot and grab his mother’s 1995 HONDA ACCORD.

So sexy.

I was SO excited to be driving something that was SO much cooler than my dad’s minivan. Like, that 1995 Honda Accord car had everything: a moonroof, leather seats, one of those aftermarket radios that lit up multiple colors — I was so into it.

So we head out on the roads. It’s about 2:00 a.m. I was feeling ALIVE. We weren’t high on drugs, but police officers did find High Chews wrappers in the front seat of the car… Later...

After the accident!

I am driving in the lead, in Ned’s Mom’s 1995 Honda Accord, and I think, “You know what this four-cylinder Honda engine deserves? To be let loose on this open road!”

So I speed up.

I’m zipping along the roads, 50, 60, 70 mph around blind corners, but who cares? I’m 14 and I'm going to live FOREVER!

I look down to the light up blue radio — Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend” plays.

“UGH...” I think, “…this is not my mix-tape.” My hand heads down to switch the song.

Had it been the remix of Avril Lavigne’s “Girlfriend," the one featuring Li’l Mama, maybe I would’ve left the song. Maybe my life would’ve turned out differently… But here we are.

The light up blue radio is confusing, and so I end up just leaving the song anyways. Avril’s repetitive lyrics play on.

As I look back up to the road, that’s speeding towards me at 70 mph, I see a figure, a small figure, crossing the road.

Is it a dog? A cat? A CHILD?

I can only tell in the split second before I reach it…

It’s an opossum.

I see the little guy, crossing the road, and being a young, underage, inexperienced driver, I swerve to avoid his poor little body.

I miss the opossum, saving an innocent life!

But, I overcorrect my swerve by turning the wheel sharply to the right. Because of my intense speed, the car goes into a power slide, a terrifying, awful power slide.

Guess I was finally drifting though like "Tokyo Drift," so props to me.

However, on Southern Oregon roads, there are not always barriers. A lot of the time, there are just ditches. And the nose-end of the Ned’s Mom's 1995 Honda Accord found a ditch and struck it.

And the Accord and I went into an intense roll.

But this was not a cool car roll. This was like a “I’m going to die, someone call my mom!” car roll.

The car stops on its roof. I am upside down. Hanging by my seat belt. I unbuckle and crawl out. Miraculously, I am unscathed! Not a scratch. NOTHING! If I have a guardian angel, they are doing a STELLAR job.

Ned, who has just seen this happen from my dad’s minivan following behind, runs up to me.

Ned: “You alright man?!”

Me: “Um shyeah dude, totally… I'm totally... Chill—“ but I start crying because I just saw my life flash before my eyes and I'm WAY too young for that!

Ned: “Aw man, we gotta get out of here! I’m gonna get deported.” (His words).

And I think to myself “Yo, this car is upside down. And I’ve played Grand Theft Auto, and when cars are upside down, they blow up. I don’t want to be around for that!”**

**Swear to God that was my actual thought process. Why was I so stupid?

So we get into my dad’s van and drive home, leaving the overturned Honda.

Once home, we try to go to sleep. Our plan is to just play stupid and hope that the cops just think some random tweaker stole the car and crashed it.

To help fall asleep, we put on "Austin Powers: Gold Member." I will probably never desire to watch that film ever again.

The next morning, Ned and I wake up. I walk out of the door to feed a dog. And the cops are there.

Apparently, Ned’s apartment complex had security cameras, and they totally saw Ned and I drive through the parking lot, steal the car and that was that.

I was handcuffed and transported to the Douglas County Juvenile Detention Center in Roseburg, Oregon. It’s as glamorous as you can think it is.

I won’t go into too much detail, but I cried A LOT. Like 30 hours straight. And they made me take a cold shower. And some kid was like “Hey, don’t be sad.” And I screamed at him “HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT.”

Jail was not a good look on me.

My mom picked me up the next day (they only held me for 30 hours). I was so relieved to leave that place that I was so not suited for.

My mom wasn't like super thrilled with me at the time, but she said something really important that a lot of parents would benefit from saying to their children.

“You did a stupid thing, but you’re not stupid.” - Mom

Ugh, my mom is the best.

Then I got home, and my dad was SO drugged out on chemo medicine, he just walked out of his room, meekly hugged me, and said, “Glad you were wearing your seatbelt.” And went back to bed.

And then I had to do work crew for a year, and Ned and I never really talked again, mostly because his older sister wanted to kill me for crashing her mom’s car (valid) and I lived for school work for the next four years of high school.

So yeah, I went to jail.

-Myles