My parents were either insane or perfect normal and had an insane moment. Either way, they let me live by myself 130 miles away from home for my senior of high school. Looking back, this wasn't the beginning of my travels, just the first of my prolonged journeys. This bout of insanity wasn't the first time my parents went off the deep end. In my sophmore year of high school, they let a friend and I use their car to drive up to their cabin. That ended when I let my friend drive even though he didn't have a license. I looked up from my book to see a wall of redwood trees in front of us as we drove off a cliff. My parent's car was severely damaged, but repairable. When my parents again went insane, letting that same friend and I take the same car on a roadtrip to Northern California and Southern Oregon, I made sure to finish the job on the car by playing pinball at 90 miles an hour on the steel girders bordering a southern Oregon highway. My parents were apparently slow learners.
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