Rachel Balducci writes:
When I was fifteen and learning how to drive, my dad gave me countless opportunities to practice this skill. Being the oldest of eight children, I didn’t learn on a typical small vehicle, but instead tooled around in a fifteen-passenger van.
One evening, I was driving home from the grocery store; my dad was in the passenger seat and one of my brothers was buckled in behind me. We were climbing a hill in our neighborhood, heading towards an intersecting street that had a stop sign, giving us the right-of-way.
Just as we approached the intersection, my dad yelled.
“Stop,” he shouted, “stop the car!” Read the rest; do NOT miss the rest.