I was in the car with my father and brother. We were driving in a rural, forested neighborhood, like the sort that you could find back home in southern Maryland.
We arrived at a house, where Dad did something. When he came back to the car, he demanded I drive us home.
I got behind the wheel and started driving, but I couldn't control it. I almost hit a group of children that were sitting out in the middle of the road. The whole time Dad was berating me. I pulled over on the side of the road and started yelling at him for forcing me to drive. I fiddled with the seat, thinking I wasn't close enough to the pedals, then realized the steering wheel was too low and it was colliding with my knees whenever I tried to turn it.
Even having figured out the problem, I got out of the car and refused to drive.
