The First Time My Dad Wore a Seatbelt
My dad always had the best stories. He’d tell them over and over, and I’d get so annoyed hearing the same ones. But now, I’m really glad he did. It means I remember them, and one of my favorites is about the first time he ever wore a seatbelt.
He grew up out west, spending a lot of time in the desert, and he loved cars—he had some pretty cool ones. So, when he finally bought his first car with a seatbelt sometime in the late 50s or early 60s, it felt more like an accessory than anything else. He spent most of his time driving through no man’s land and didn’t think much of using it.
But one day, on a long, boring stretch of road with no other cars in sight, he decided to buckle up. He figured he’d pass the time by reading a magazine. It was the Sixties, after all. Everything was going smoothly until he looked up and saw something big and brown in the road. Before he could swerve or stop, he hit it—turns out it was a wild horse, standing right in the middle of the road. He was okay. The horse and the car were not so lucky…