High Life : Driver Gets Crash Course in Human Nature : Relationships: The shock of being responsible for an accident is not as strong as the fear of telling the owners what you’ve done to their van.

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night with poor visibility and slick roads; instead, the sky was blue and the sun sightly the day I drove the van of my best friend’s parents through an open gate and heard the sound of metal on metal and breaking glass.

Excuse me for being naive or arrogant, but I’ve always believed cents were the result of giving driver’s licenses to blondes who spent more time checking their mascara in the rearview mirror than watching the road. Or they were the fault of nerds with no hand-eye coordination.

I, on the other hand, have always slowed down at yellow traffic lights, come to a complete halt at stop signs, and signaled even though I knew no one was coming. I even used to tease others about how dangerous they were behind the wheel.

Now I’m just another statistic helping to explain why teen-agers’ insurance rates are so high. I mean, how difficult can it be to drive through an open gate without coming in contact with either side?

The shock of being personally responsible for an auto accident was strong, but not as overwhelming as the fear I had of having to tell the parents of Heather, my best friend, what I had done to their van. After all, they had always referred to me as one of their own daughters. This truly was to be the ultimate test of unconditional love.

“Mom” didn’t take the news too badly.

“I am sorry,” I sobbed, and I guess I looked pretty pathetic because she didn’t get mad at me.

“How awful!” she said. “You were probably so scared. I bet you just felt like slitting your wrists with the broken glass when you saw the damage.”

Well, the thought of suicide never crossed my mind, but since she was being kind to me, I played along. I figured the more she concerned herself with me, the less she would think about the damaged van.

OK, I got past her, but soon it would be “Dad’s” turn. I’ve noticed men generally tend to be less forgiving than women, so I was concerned about his reaction.

*

As I cleaned up the glass, I could hear the chuckling of my little brothers as they discussed my impending doom. I tightened my lips, narrowed my eyes and gave them the dirtiest look I knew how.

“Nguyen, we weren’t laughing at you,” they insisted. “We were just laughing at how funny the van looks.”

Right.

It didn’t help matters when Heather tried to pretend the damage wasn’t that bad and that everything was going to be fine. Heck, the van looked awful. There were jagged edges of glass hanging from the window frame. I felt sick.

After I cleaned up the glass, I went to another friend’s house, hoping to get some sympathy for the severe trauma that had been inflicted upon me in such a sudden and unexpected way.

“Bake Heather’s dad a cake,” my friend Ashley’s mother advised. “He loves chocolate.”

What a great idea! We went into the kitchen and started creating a chocolate-chip chocolate cake.

“Don’t worry,” Ashley said. “When I got in my car accident, I thought my dad was going to be really mad at me, but he wasn’t. Of course, my accident was more serious than yours. I totaled the car and an ambulance had to come remove me from the driver’s seat. You have to almost die so they’ll be too worried about you to even care about the car.”

Some people had all the luck, I thought.

After we baked the cake, I got myself together (because despite liberation, most men don’t like to see women cry), put on my best sweet, shy, innocent face and headed back to Heather’s house. Her dad would be home by now.

“Hi, Nguyen. Come on in,” Heather said in a whisper more suited for a mortuary. “My dad’s in the kitchen.”

*

I crept into the kitchen, where I found him rinsing off the dinner dishes.

“Hi, can we talk?” I said, placing the cake in full view on the counter.

He smiled . . . it’s working!

“Don’t sweat it, Nguyen,” he said.

It worked!

Looking back on this experience, I can see how life is an awful lot like a car--or even a van--accident: Sometimes you mess up and think people are going to be really mad at you, but you just have to face the music, bake that cake and go on.