Mom, forgive me.

Read time: 4 minutes.

Welcome to my weekly newsletter – Where I use real stories from my life to unpack lessons and insights I have learnt. I hope you enjoy the material and gain something impactful to apply to your life.

What’s in store:

Writing off my mom’s car.
Hitting the casino.
Making a monumental error – KEYS.
Cracking my coccyx.
Racing a Merc 63 AMG.
6 valuable lessons and maybe a little wisdom.
Quote: Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.

I slammed on the brakes with all my might, desperately trying to regain control as the car’s tail slid out to the side. This corner was make or break – if I missed it, the car would plow into the sidewalk, completely wrecking the chassis. It was my mom’s brand-new car, and she would be pissed.

The trusty old clock above my desk chimed 5 pm, signaling the end of the workday. It was finally Friday, and I couldn’t wait to head home. Closing my laptop, I bid farewell to my colleagues and set off.

My good friend Nathan (may he rest in peace) was in town visiting his mom for the weekend. We planned to meet in town for dinner and a couple of beers to catch up. Living in the small village of Whiteriver, our best option for a night out was 30 kilometers away in the town of Nelspruit. My parents were away visiting family in New Zealand; I was house-sitting for them, making sure nothing went wrong.

I called up Nathan, who lived on the opposite side of town. It was convenient as his place was on the way to Nelspruit. “Hey, bro, I’ll leave my place around 6:30 pm. Be ready at the gate by 6:45 pm, and we can head into town. Nothing too wild tonight, just a good dinner and a solid catch-up, alright?” I said. Nathan replied, “Yeah, sure. Let’s play it by ear.” – when was a reply like that ever reassuring?

When we arrived at the restaurant, we bumped into some old friends who joined us for a drink. After they left, we finally started catching up. But it wasn’t long before another familiar face pulled up a chair, bringing more beers to the table. He insisted we join them and some other old friends across the road for an “old times’ sake” catch-up. What exactly did that mean?

The trusty old clock above the dance floor chimed midnight. We both knew that nothing good ever happened after 12. We were no longer 18-year-olds but supposedly mature mid-20-somethings who had learned from the mistakes of our youth. Or so we thought.

Reluctantly saying our goodbyes, we started our journey back home, taking back roads as much as possible, solely for scenic reasons, of course—Mom. There was one final challenge: a large roundabout where we needed to take the third exit to get back on the main road towards Whiteriver. I had the brilliant idea to test the drifting capabilities of the car while cornering. Little did I know that my “quality control testing” of the vehicle was too advanced for this specific mom-mobile. We crashed into the chicane on the way out of the roundabout, which seemed to be built to withstand the impact of a freight train. The left side of the car’s chassis was ripped apart, leaving us stranded in the middle of the road, surrounded by flying sparks – I always wanted to drop my car’s suspension!! We exchanged glances, hurriedly exited the vehicle, and ran to the front left, placing our hands on our heads, realizing the magnitude of our screw-up. The car was on its belly.

In a panic, fearing the arrival of the police, we darted across the road to a nearby hotel&casino, hoping to find a cab to take us home. Unfortunately, Uber hadn’t reached this small town yet, so that wasn’t an option. The receptionist informed us that we would need to wait for a cab, which would take at least 30 minutes. We also needed cash to pay the driver, which she surmised would be between 400 and 600 bucks, which we didn’t have.

We had time to kill and money to make. The casino’s bright lights drew us in like a moth to a flame. Blackjack had our number. We struck gold with three lucky hands, raking in a whopping R600—the exact amount needed for our taxi fare. The lure to keep going was strong but we knew we needed to get home. We swaggered outside and hopped into the cab, ready to make our triumphant journey homeward. But, oh boy, the driver had other plans. He glanced at us dubiously and declared, “R500 is as far as I go – to the start of WhiteRiver.” This was to Nathan’s home. Undeterred, I unleashed my persuasion skills, convincing him that my destination was just around the corner, and around another corner, and another… You get the picture. We trudged on, inching closer to my humble abode, until finally, at a mere kilometer away, the cabbie had reached his limit. He slammed the brakes, demanding his full R600. With a defeated sigh, I bid the cab farewell and embarked on a midnight stroll.

The clock struck 3 am as I arrived at the fortified gate of my quaint housing complex, only to be met with a horrifying realisation— I HAD LEFT THE HOUSE KEYS INSIDE THE CAR!!! Panic gripped me as I surveyed the seemingly impenetrable walls and electrified fence. They call it a wall and electric fence for a reason. No way in!

But being the resourceful individual I am, I hatched a plan. I leaped onto the wall, perching precariously on a narrow 20cm ledge just before the electric fence commenced. With the grace of a clumsy gymnast, I calculated that a scissor jump, reminiscent of the early Olympic high jump, might clear the 1m obstacle. I mentally rehearsed my feat many times, prayed, and I think I even had a nervous pee. Summoning every ounce of bravery, I took a daring leap of faith, defying the electric fence with a hair’s breadth of clearance. I can only imagine the hilarious spectacle it must have been for the security camera. Alas, my moment of triumph was short-lived as gravity reminded me of its cruel existence. I crashed down with a resounding thud, my posterior taking the brunt of the impact. The pain was excruciating—I was sure I had shattered my coccyx. Wincing but filled with an odd sense of pride, I gingerly trudged down the path toward my home.

However, as luck would have it, the comedy of errors continued. Not having the keys meant I couldn’t get into the house either. Lo and behold, an upstairs window taunted me with its slight opening. This called for acrobatics that even Cirque du Soleil would applaud. With a blend of balance, finesse, and extreme discomfort, I scaled the facade, maneuvering like a contortionist in distress. I squeezed my way in, collapsing onto the floor and setting off the blaring alarm. Oh, what a symphony! Thankfully, my journey to disable the alarm was swift as I descended the stairs with purpose, finally reaching the spare keys to silence the chaotic chorus. Naturally, as one does in such situations, I immediately checked that my rear end wasn’t bleeding during a much-needed hot shower. And when my weary head finally met the welcoming embrace of my pillow, it was already 4:30 am—a testament to the extraordinary adventure that had unfolded. What a night! A rollercoaster of misfortune, acrobatics, and buttock-related calamities. In the end, though bruised and battered, I couldn’t help but smirk with a mix of pride and pain.

My eyes shot open as I felt a warm light on my face. It was morning, a bright and sunny day, but my body was aching from the wild escapades of the previous night. I sat up in bed, realizing I had survived the ordeal and had a new day ahead of me.

But first things first, I needed to deal with the car situation. I knew exactly who to call—my good friend Eric (may he rest in peace), my insurance broker. I dialed his number and recounted the previous night’s events with a sense of urgency, carefully omitting a few details I deemed unnecessary. I assured him that the police must have towed the car away, so I would investigate its whereabouts and get back to him.

Without wasting time, I hopped into my dad’s Subaru, a speedy vehicle he didn’t allow me to drive- I wonder why! Racing down the road toward the accident scene, my anxiety pushed me to exceed the speed limit. However, in a twist of fate, a fellow driver in a brand-new Mercedes seemed equally eager to test the limits of his car. What ensued was a thrilling cat-and-mouse race for about 10 kilometers. Just as we approached Nelspruit, God’s hand of favour was certainly on me. The Merc was ahead going down this steep hill and the speed trap up ahead nabbed the driver, and the police swiftly pulled him over, leaving me in the clear. With my heart pounding, I slowed to a cautious speed, maintaining a law-abiding pace for the remainder of the journey.

Finally, I turned the corner onto the road where the accident had occurred, and to my relief and astonishment, the car was still there, sitting in the middle of the road untouched. No police officers, no vandals, and no other vehicles surrounded it. It was a bizarre sight that left me dumbfounded. Several patient drivers maneuvered around the stationary car, allowing me to assess the situation and plan my next move.

I called my mom in New Zealand to deliver the news. With an honest tone, I admitted that I misjudged the corner on the circle and irreparably damaged the car’s chassis. Surprisingly, I didn’t have to fabricate any lies. I may have omitted a few other details(well now you know!). Parents were young once, too, and made their fair share of mistakes. They understand, and although disappointed, their primary concern is our well-being.

Let’s quickly reflect on the moral of this wild ride and the valuable lessons I learnt:

Here’s a valuable nugget of wisdom: your dad’s car may be a speed demon, but when it comes to playing it safe, go with mom’s car. Buckle up and enjoy the steady, leisurely ride. It’s easier to ask her for forgiveness than dad!
Ah, the subject of bets! If you’re ever feeling lucky, stick to the colour black at the roulette table. Just keep playing enough hands, and surely you’ll hit the jackpot. Okay, that is probably not the best advice. (What is good advice – stay away from the casino!!!)
Time for some heartfelt sentiments. If you’re lucky enough to have close friends, ensure they know how much you love and appreciate them. Please don’t wait for a moment of regret like me, wishing for one more day to express my gratitude. So, go on, pick up that phone, and tell them they are awesome. They deserve it.
Honesty is truly the best policy, especially concerning your parents. Believe it or not, they were once young and reckless, pulling off silly shenanigans. Remember their understanding. Yes, they might be a little miffed or disappointed, but your well-being is their top priority. So, fess up, embrace their love, and learn from their wisdom.
Here’s a practical tip: ensure your insurance is in tip-top shape. You never want to be caught napping and unprepared. Trust me, the initial hassle and admin work are well worth the peace of mind it brings. Sleep tight, knowing you’re covered.
Ah, the infamous case of absentmindedness. Take it from me, don’t be like yours truly, and leave the house keys in the car. It’s a surefire recipe for a colossal headache. Remember, actions have consequences, but so does inaction. Choose your moves wisely, my friends, and avoid unnecessary turmoil.

There you have it- Life’s adventures may be chaotic, but they always manage to teach us a thing or two. So, buckle up, play it safe (unless you’re at the roulette table), cherish your loved ones, stay honest, sort out that insurance, and keep those keys close at hand. May your future escapades be filled with fewer headaches and more hilarity!

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all” – Helen Keller

In your day, be courageous, confident, and curious.

Your Friend

Trev.

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