As we rumbled down the street, I kept quiet while Carrie and Jason chatted with Dad excitedly. I was hoping to be able to get my license in less than a year, so I had been paying attention when Mom drove us somewhere or I got a ride with a friend. I looked at all the knobs and buttons in the truck with confusion. How does he drive this thing? I thought. Jason was checking out all the bells and whistles, too. Then he opened up Dad's glove box while my father was looking at the road.

"Dad!" he exclaimed angrily. "Why do you have these?" Dad quickly turned his attention to Jason, who was holding a carton of Camel cigarettes in his hand. With the shiny foil pulled apart slightly, we could tell some had been used, and there were still some remaining. "I thought we aren't supposed to smoke! Are you smoking?" he demanded. Dad looked a little caught off-guard.

"No son," he explained, "those belong to a friend of mine. I keep them in here for when they ride with me." Jason appeared to be a little skeptical, but he gave Dad the benefit of the doubt.

In the meantime, I realized I had an agenda that Dad might be able to help with. He had helped us out of a jam before.
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