I’ve just turned 18. I am an adult now. I am reliable and trustworthy. I can park Dad’s new car.

I am on the garage’s ramp. The tarmac is covered with slippery gravel. I can see the gate open at the end of the ramp, going down to the garage. I slowly set the gear, and I gently go down, proud of my driving skills. The gate is not completely open, I realize suddenly. I won’t fit. I need to stop. I pull the hand brake. The car stops. But after the wheels get blocked, it slides. I am fucking sliding down the ramp with my Dad’s new car. Slowly. Like an earthquake in slow-motion. I could stop my car altogether, get out of the car, and cover those few steps dividing me from the partially open gate. But there’s no room. The wall running sideways leaves no space to open the car’s doors. I am stuck in my Dad’s new car. I cannot get out. I cannot move forward. I cannot drive back. I am stuck!

The car slides. Maybe a centimeter. Maybe two. But it slides. The metal edge of the gate is looking at the corner of my Dad’s new car, waiting for a violent kiss. And I am stuck. The car slides three centimeters now. The sound of gravel sparkling as popcorn under the wheels gives me shivers. I am fucked! I am stuck! And fucked. I decide to go all in. I steer the wheel of a millionth of a degree to the left—the car slides. I aim to go as close as possible to the left wall while avoiding the protruding end of the gate on the right. The car slides again. My hands are sweaty. I am wetting the steering wheel. I cannot blink. I am fixated on the distance between the sides of my Dad’s new car and the two edges. I measure with my eyes—the car slides. The gate approaches—the car slides. I am firing glazes to the left and the right without a pause—the car slides. Infinite seconds of panic are never-ending—the car slides. I can see the gate at the level of the right corner. I should wait for the hit. I should hear the sound—the car slides. I can feel the slope diminishing. I am not on the ramp anymore. I made it! I am in the garage!

I drove my Dad’s new car in the garage safely.

I am an adult now. I am reliable and trustworthy.