started a clean up our highways campaign. To be fair about it, she was right. Our highways were really trashy.
We were watching TV when one of her public service ads came on and dad looked at me and said, "Hey, Kid. When you get older don't throw your empties in a ditch somewhere. Make sure you throw them on someone's nicely manicured lawn so they get picked up and put in the trash."
My mother shook her head and said, "Jiminy Cricket." She was used to dad's sarcasm which is hereditary as it is now in its 5th generation that I am aware of. It probably dates back to 1066 or probably even further back than that.
Anyway, a couple of weeks later Dad let me drive the family $hitbox down a quiet, deserted road for about a half mile. I say family $hitbox. Dad always drove a clunker and made sure Mom had a good car under her. Of course, the first taste of driving the family $hitbox whetted my appetite and one thing led to another and by the time I was 14 if it was just Dad and I in the car and it was after dark it was a pretty safe bet I was driving the old 3 in the tree Falcon (which we called 'The Flivver') unless we were in a city. I didn't do any real city driving until I got my permit.
One time we both needed shoes so we went to an outlet several towns over and dad took over when we neared town. We bought shoes and left. He drove until we saw a liquor store on the edge of town. He pulled over, and while he was inside I took the wheel. Dad sat down and as we drove off he popped a beer open. when he was well into the beer I saw mischief in his eyes in the reflection of the windshield.
When there was about an inch of beer left he took the can and stuffed it between my legs. "Finish this, you little criminal. Now when you get to be an old man you can tell do-gooders you started drinking and driving when you were fourteen!"
I drained the can and as I was handing it to dad I said, "Up ahead on the right there's a post light and it looks like a pretty good lawn to park the empty."
"Hey, I'm glad you remembered what I told you," he replied and rolled down the window. The game was now 'you laugh, you lose'.
Not a word was spoken between us and as I neared the person's yard I swerved over to the right and dad tossed the can that landed squarely in his neatly tended yard. It was a perfectly executed team effort. Not a word was said afterward although we were both dying inside.
There was no real inconvenience to anyone. The homeowner would pick the can up and maybe mutter something under his breath, throw it away and forget about it.
What was interesting is that I never got a long winded lecture about drinking and driving because I already knew drunk driving was wrong. I didn't need anything said about vandalizing property.
As we pulled into the driveway dad started laughing like hell. "This isn't the kind of thing you'd want to tell your kids. This is one you save for your grandchildren. If you don't drink and drive you can tell them that you quit drinking and driving when you were fourteen!"
I didn't understand it at the time but when I got my license it stayed with me. Over the years a few times I've told a few people that I stopped drinking and driving when I was fourteen much to their confusion.
What had happened was our little joke. I think the only thing dad had to point out to me is that a lot of cops were hard on teenagers so it paid to behave.
Last spring right after I mowed the lawn I found a beer can on it a couple hours later. I laughed like hell. What goes around comes around. I picked the can up and put it atop a valance next to a teddy bear in memory of my Dad.
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