Crime, Punishment…. and a Flat Tire
My daughters went to the east of the Island yesterday. Besides beaches and diners, they stopped at some outlets for shopping. Upon returning to the car, they discovered they had a flat. They’re still teenagers but it’s not their first punctured tire rodeo and hearing about this reminded me of the first time.
Several years ago when my oldest had just turned 16 and gotten her Learner’s Permit. I was very clear on the rules. It only allowed driving whilst accompanied by an adult but I would very rarely allow driving short distances if it was absolutely necessary and with my knowledge and permission beforehand.
My daughters and I have always had our “Tell All” agreement. An agreement which allows them to tell me absolutely anything and I promise never to get angry or upset and in turn if the thing they’re going to tell me is “difficult” (drugs, sex, boys, alcohol, etc) then they just need to present a warning label prior so I can prepare myself.
So with the agreement we tend to not hide much from each other and have a good knowledge of where each of us are physically, mentally and emotionally. One night, my oldest decided to do something without telling me and it bit her in the buttocks.
I had been out with my girlfriend and we came home and were relaxing and talking. My oldest texted me asking if I could go to her room as she had something to talk to me about. I told my Amy what was happening and went to her room to find out what was up.
Unlike normal confession sessions she was not spilling the beans and was hesitant from doing so. She was, of course, worrying me. Finally I gave up and got up. She suddenly said to me, “Please don’t tell Amy!” Amy had gotten the car from her mother, who had become too old to drive it, and had given it to the girls for when they would drive. Even so, the girls still considered it Amy’s car and not theirs.
Her request concerned me and before returning to the living room let her know, “if this has anything to do with Amy then you need to come upstairs and talk to both of us!”
A short time after, she showed up in the living room. She sat on a loveseat across from us and was very apprehensive. Reluctantly she finally started her story. It began with the fact that her friend had come over to the house to hang out. The friend had gotten her period and was wearing white pants (to this day I am suspect of that part of the story, but I have to trust them). Because of the stained pants her friend wanted to go home to change. Although she only lived a few blocks away, she convinced my daughter to drive the car there, even though it was technically not allowed. The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree. My oldest is a photocopy of me and so she did.
When she got back to the house, she looked to see what had been feeling weird on the car on the drive back and discovered a flat tire.
“A flat tire!” I couldn’t help myself.
“Papa, you’re supposed to-”
“Right. I know. Ok, so you got a flat, and?”
“And I changed it.”
I paused for a moment as the flat was bad but not bad enough to make up for the fact that my little 16 year old, without any training, who only a few years before regularly played with mermaid barbies in the tub when taking a bath, had jacked up the car, removed a flat tire and replaced it with the spare. Then the image of the car crashing down on her while she jacked it up emerged in my mind.
“Do you know how dangerous-”
“That’s wonderful!” Amy interrupted me and was clapping her hands like one of those symbol smashing monkey dolls from the 60’s.
I turned to look at her, “no it’s not. It’s illegal.”
Always a positive person (she hates when I call her Pollyanna) she smiled broadly, “I think it’s great!” She sounded like Tony the Tiger.
I couldn’t argue with her enthusiasm but still had the responsibility of pointing out the danger and rule breaking. “It’s good that you were able to do that, but you were not supposed to be driving her home.”
“I know Papa.”
“I know you know, but…” Amy pinched my thigh. “How did you know how to change a tire?”
Knowing the danger of punishment or hearing me lecture her was over she became excited to tell us the whole story in detail. “I looked up some YouTube videos and…”
“YouTube videos?”
“Papa, that’s how you do things.”
I was enormously proud of that young girl. What about today and the flat at the outlets? Changed it like pulling a bandaid off, took it to a shop and had it plugged. She made life go back to normal lickety split. Aren’t kids amazing?
Renato Passalacqua 