A few months ago, as time neared my sixteenth birthday, I pushed my parents into allowing me to take my driver's license test the very day I would become eligible for it. I was permitted to get out of school after I took an English essay exam first period to take the test, and could then stay home the rest of the day.
I passed the test with the greatest of ease. A few turns here, and couple stops there, and I was done. But more importantly, I was free. To me, and most likely to other teenagers, a car defines freedom.
Later that day, when my mother had gone back to work, I sat at home, listening to some music. It reminded me that I had wanted to get this new CD. But alas, mom and dad were at work, and I had no ride. Then it struck me, "Hey! I can drive!" I called my mother at work and said I would be going to the mall.
The possibilities were endless. I was hungry, so I went to McDonald's. I wanted to hang out at a friend's house, so I went. My parents were relatively lenient about all this. I could essentially go where I wanted, when I wanted to, as long as they always knew where I was, and that I wasn't out at some unreasonably late hour. A blessing for any teenager, correct?.
As time progressed, however, I began to get sloppy. Quickly enough, it was almost every day I would go to a friend's house instead of going straight home, and would forget to call my parents to tell them I wasn't at home. It wasn't so much that I was out, as opposed to being at home, but the fact that they didn't know where I was. This was the case too often, it seems.
The majority of the time, I went to one particular friend's house, partly because of the proximity of his house to mine, and therefore, ease of access to each other, and partly because we were still new to being fairly good friends.
After a few "run-ins" with my parents while I was with this friend (a sort of breaking of the rules), my parents" original unexpressed dislike for him was made known to me.