There is a place in the Pryor park (15 mph limit) where--if you are going fast enough--you can fly over a hump in the road.  Which, (of course) my 16 yr oldest son had to try.

The lovely thing about a small town is that everyone is in on raising your kids.  It’s everyone’s job.  Before “that son’s” car hit the ground again, I had a phone call.  “xxxxx just took a fly on the park hill; thought you’ld want to know.”  I did want to know.

When he came in the back door, I didn’t say a word...just held my hand out, palm up.  The keys were deposited in my hand, and as far as I know, he learned his lesson.  But, of course, with raising a boy, there are dozens and dozens of lessons to learn.

I always appreciated the help.