When I turned 16 I got my license and asked a girl out on my first "date." My Dad had a '74 Sedan DeVille and I asked to take it on the date. I got the car (it was as big as a boat) and changed lanes on the freeway and hit a guy in my blind spot. We pull over and his truck was no damage, but I had a dent in the rear driver quarter panel. I get home around midnight and go to bed. My Dad wakes me up around 7 and wants to know what happened - how did the dent get there? I told the story - expecting to be in big trouble - and he says "I'm kind of glad you did it, I've been wanting to get a new car, and this is a good excuse for your mother."

It's that sort of bad parenting that has me messed up to this day.