Maybe it’ll work for me

From a young age, I was at odds with my father. Many of our conflicts worsened in my teenage years after my mother died and my father was on his own, raising seven kids. He allowed me to drive his cars, two of which I totaled while under the influence in high school. I totaled the second car after a night of drinking with a friend in a nearby town where I wasn’t supposed to be. When my father showed up that night around 2 a.m. to pick us up at the police station, I was embarrassed that he came to the station in his pajamas. I didn’t feel he liked me much and at one point I told him how much I hated him.