I had just turned 14 when, one morning, my sister asked me to go start up my moms pride and joy in the garage, a VW Beetle. This is Michigan in January where you have to start your car up 20 minutes before you leave to have any hope of any kind of heat and honestly, the Beetle really didn’t have what you would call a heater anyway. I was stoked having never driven a car and feeling proud that I was deemed responsible enough to do this. I jumped in, turned the key and the Beetle, having been parked and left in 1st gear and apparently the parking brake not on lurched forward, I drove thru the new fiberglass garage door my dad had just installed and ended up about 15 feet in the backyard in about a foot of snow. (the garage opened to both the driveway and the backyard.) I sheepishly returned to the house, my mom blissfully asleep and told my sister who said she thought the noise was train cars linking together at the nearby tracks. We extricated the Beetle from the backyard and went to school. About two hours later I called my mom on a pay phone (this was the 80s ok) and asked if I could come home without fear of bodily injury. She said yes.