Family Story

Since my entrance into this craziness called college, I haven't been interested in drinking at all, much to the dismay and disbelief of those around me. Though I dismiss it with the excuse, "It's just not my thing," I believe my sobriety has a lot more to do with a short story my father told me once I'd gotten my driver's liscense:
He had a 1964 Impala, as I remember him saying, and he told me that one night he decided that he was indeed sober enough to drive home, despite (though probably because of) the many drinks he'd had at a party earlier that night. His journey went well enough until he came to an intersection and failed to heed the red light. A semi truck t-boned him halfway through the intersection, and so ended his drive home. He shook his head when he said that what was worse than the accident was getting out, unharmed, and having to call his dad to pick him up. And to top it all off, the car was totaled, so he had to ride the bus for the rest of high school, and everyone knew why.

Though the story was originally used to persuade me to be extremely careful when I drove, as I grew older, he used it again to emphasize that this accident was the result of his drinking beforehand, and to urge and implore me to not repeat his mistake.

Well, I've made it through high school and college without so much as a speeding ticket.