While the first call is obvious, the second deserves explanation. You see, I'm the poster child for the phrase, "There's a time and a place for everything. It's called college."
To demonstrate. In the spring of 1997, I loaded up a couple of my Utah buddies, copious amounts of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer and headed to Jeep Safari Weekend driving one of these:
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After said weekend of testing my mad sedan driving skills, I went back home to Colorado. I was enjoying sleeping in at my parents house when the door burst open and my dad entered the room. "What. In. The. Hell. Happened. To. Your. Car?!"
I mulled it over, decided to come clean and then found out that the undercarriage and suspension had sustained over $1800 in damage and I was lucky to have made it home in one piece.
Now, every Easter weekend, on Friday, my dad calls me. "So. You heading to Jeep Safari this weekend?" and we laugh about my adventures as a college kid.
And you know what? It never gets old. That phone call is as important and joy filled to me as the happy birthday song I get every year in Feburary.