I still remember her first skinned knee...

It's hard to be a father. Maybe not as hard as it is to be the front end of my 17-year-old daughter's Jetta, but fatherhood offers a unique blend of suffering that transcends mere physical damage.

Kate and her passenger are fine, but the car may never be the same. It's all in the hands of the insurance company, now, and so is my financial future. My wife already donated a kidney just to get coverage for Kate when she was sixteen. Now it looks like I'm going to lose half of my liver and two feet of my lower intestine just so we can keep her on the road.

What do I expect in return? Isn't it obvious? I think I deserve some uninterrupted and gratefully received lecture time. (At this point, let me offer some advice to anyone who is just starting out as a parent. Never tell your children any stories about your past. You might think your "cool" rating will rise in the eyes of your teenager as you relate the story about the time you rolled the family station wagon going around a corner too fast, but let me tell you, that kind of relationship building will only come around and bite you on the ass).

I figured this wreck entitled me to require some supplemental driving instruction for my daughter; a recitation on the many, many years I have gone without any type of accident whatsoever; and a sincere appreciation for not only my skills, but my appearance behind the wheel.

Sometimes, even the dreams of a madman seem rational. You see, I have my own story about a driving mishap. I grew up in Orlando and it was no big deal to make a day trip to the beach. New Smyrna, driving right down on the beach and convenience store clerks with poor eyesight when presented with questionable id's. Thankfully, I was sober on this occasion, but I did have a terrible wreck and my daughter has heard the story.

The truth is, car wrecks are hard to handle as a parent. On the one hand, this is about the biggest mistake your child can make. No other teenage activity offers so much potential for devastating consequences. On the other hand, you are so relieved when no one is hurt that you hope against hope that a lesson has been learned.

I don't know if Kate has a new respect for the seriousness of driving after this accident. I remember a sixteen-year-old boy who wishes he could change what happened just before his car did flips in the grass alongside the highway.

Anyway, place your votes for one of two options: six months in a Pakistani child labor camp to help defer the increased insurance premium or a year without text messaging.