The first one is the squealing tires story I promised last month. One evening as a new driver I was leaving the house with a couple of friends. Our street was on a slight hill, which made for an excellent opportunity to do a burnout. I had the perfect car. A 1971 Oldsmobile Delta 88 with a 455 V-8. Our house was at a T-intersection and as I put the pedal to the floor on the east-west road, my parents were coming home down the north-south road. My dad honked, but then my mom said something and my dad waved me on. I knew I was in trouble.