Published on CatholicMom.com

My son, Zack, bought an old police cruiser and has been trying to soup it up ever since. But the modifications he wants are costly. His friend, Billy, is studying automotive in college and has an internship at a car dealership. When Zack couldn’t afford the new exhaust system he wanted that would make his car louder (apparently that’s a thing teens want), Billy suggested they cut off the dual muffler system to get the same effect. He promised it would still pass inspection.   

A few nights ago, they decided to tackle the project together. However, it was raining. So, I allowed Zack to park his car in my garage bay while they cut and disassemble the system. My other son, Mason, has been driving my car back and forth to work since. 

Today, as I was circling around the garage to get into my car for the first time since the project, I noticed all the debris around and under my car: metal shavings, bolts, broken shards of a hack saw blade, etc. It was nothing short of a miracle that Mason hadn’t driven over any of it and gotten a flat tire. I’ve taught him to be attentive to sharp objects out on the road. But when it comes to our own garage, I trusted that he and I could let our guard down; that it was safe to pull in and out without scrutiny. I now know differently. 

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