Can you say... It's your own fault?

Ok, Wednesday evening my son and I worked in the yard.  He's mowing.  I decide it's time to cut down the sad end of summer jungle in my flower bed.  The cannas have taken over! 

So, it's getting dark, we're putting 3 yard bags full of miserably sad cannas, calla lilies and irises (along with a good dose of grass that had invaded), dripping sweat, etc., when the new neighbors across the street come over to introduce themselves.  Now, I looked real pretty.  Sweat was literally dripping off my head and mascara was running.  Not to mention it looked like raindrops were all over my glasses.  That was bad enough.  What happened next is the kicker.

The boy has been asking me to let him start the "learning to drive" process.  Ok, I let his sister start at his age, so I figure... Why not?  I tell him I'll let him pull the car, ever so slowly into the garage.  First mistake.  Next I'm walking beside the car telling him to quit riding the brake because he is making slow car cease to move.  So, he gives it gas.  Nice, easy...  Now it's time to stop... He hits the gas.  In my garage.  Runs into the cabinet that used to hold my canned goods.  Now, this is a cabinet that I ripped out of my house because I detested the icky kitchen cabinets in the first place.  But, it worked for garage storage.  Then the boy is pressing on the gas and the brake so... now I have a garage filled with the noxious smell of burning rubber and the tire streaks on my garage floor to go with it.  The boy is panicked and scared I'm about to kill him, freaking in the car.  Me yelling at him to get his foot off of anything and put the darn thing in park!  Luckily, he'd quit pushing the gas, so the car was stopped, but....

My car was wedged under the cabinet top of now demolished cabinet.  One side of cabinet has driven itself into my garage wall.  On the other side of said wall is the boy's bedroom.  Thank goodness it didn't penetrate through the other side.   No, there is no "Film at Eleven" for this one.  I couldn't stomach having to see the slo-mo of events every time I looked at it. 

So, long story short, no one was hurt, my car has lovely... battle scars... the garage wall needs new dry wall and the requisite paint, the crushed and leaking cans of green beans and tomato sauce are in the trash, spilled hot tub chemicals cleaned up, glass swept, and...my son has sworn he never wants to drive again. Yeah, right. Like that's gonna last... Not!

I will say, I never knew how hard it would be to remove a  piece of cabinet from the wall.  It was really wedged in there.