I Will Never Be a Nascar Driver

From the ages of 5 to 8 I would not use the door to the car to get out, I would climb out the window. My mom owned a grey piece of shit car with no air conditioner so the windows were always down. We had just returned from either grocery shopping or something and I start to climb out of the window. First of all the doors are unlocked and this is about 20 years ago so locks were still placed on the top of the door near the window and the lock was about as long as my pinkie finger, I start to climb out when I find that my favorite puff paint shirt with a city of cats motif has gotten caught on the lock. No sooner then I realize I’m dangling from the door completely bent in two with my knees in touching my chin, my mom locks the door and the pinkie sized lock shoots back in the top of the door, my shirt then unhooks from the lock and I go crashing face first into gravel that we called our driveway. I immediately feel tremendous pain and start to cry; my mom helps me up and runs me into the house where she goes to the kitchen to get a towel and other first aid items to help with my wounds. All I remember is not being able to close my mouth, due to rocks being lodged in my lips and gums, and all I could taste was dirt. Once we assessed the situation and cleaned me up I still had all my teeth and only a couple of scratches. From that day on I was officially the big girl that got out of the car like a normal person ---undo seat belt, unlock door, open door, step out, and close door!