I didn’t know for sure but now I definitely know that I don’t like to drive trucks. In January of 2013 I passed and received my drivers permit. I was practicing every chance I got on my dad’s BMW 3 series. Also whenever I went to my mom’s house I would practice on her Nissan Altima. I enjoy learning how to drive and had always looked forward to getting my license.

I was always called small in high school because I was short and slim. Over time I got roughly 2 inches taller but still stayed slim. Since I am so small I prefer to drive smaller cars, if I were to drive a truck I would feel very uncomfortable. After getting my permit every once in a while my dad would ask if I wanted to drive and of course like any new driving teen I said yes.

One day in February 2013 started off normal but got bad. That morning my dad had asked me if I wanted to drive, I said yes and went to get the BMW keys. After getting the keys I ran quickly down the steps and to the car. I got in the car, put the key in the ignition, turned the key and nothing happened. I was confused but I just said to myself, “let’s just try again” so I tried again and didn’t hear the “vroom” noise. Still confused I called my dad over to make sure I wasn’t trying to turn the car on wrong because I thought I was going crazy for a second. He told me to get out of the car, he got in the car, did exactly what I did and nothing happened. He turned to me and said “What did you do!?”, I gave him that “why does it have to be my fault” face and said “I didn’t do anything It wasn’t working for me either”. Turns out the car needed a new battery and I needed something new to drive. My dad, being the car guy he is, had two cars at the time, a Nissan Murano and the BMW. My dad turned to me and asked “Do you want to drive the truck?”, I looked at him and said “No, something bad might happen if I do” but he handed me the truck keys. I got in the truck and was kind of skeptical. I started to drive and it was going well. Then when I had stopped at a light, I didn’t say this to my dad but I said to myself, “this is going too well…too well”. Another hour or so passed and nothing happened so I figured maybe I was wrong. My dad had told me to go back home because he had to go to work. I turned onto our road and noticed that there were two cars and an empty spot in-between them so I chose to park in-between the two cars. Pulling up to the spot I slowed down, turned the wheel and began to pull into the spot. Out of nowhere my dad looked up from his comic book and yelled “STOP, STOP, STOP”. I stopped the car, he turned to me and said “you could have hit that car” I started hysterical laughing because of the way he yelled “stop” then he started to laugh because I was laughing. I looked out the window and said back to him “I didn’t hit the car”, he responded with, “ok you need to be more careful next time.” I backed the car up, re-parked and got out the car. When I walked past the rear of the car next to us I noticed lines on the bumper but didn’t think anything of it. When my dad got out he looked at the front of the truck and yelled “Brianna!”. He pointed to the front bumper of the truck and said “you did hit it”. I walked to the front and saw a soccer ball sized dent in the bumper. To this day my dad hasn’t let me live it down even though I passed my road test... the second time.