When I was 16 years old, my mom bought me a new Ford Contour sedan. It was blue with a little pink stripe along the sides that I made the dealership remove because I thought it looked stupid (it was). I was so excited to have my first car and the freedom that came with it. Three weeks after she handed the keys over to me, I was driving to a friend’s house for a sleepover when I came across an intersection that had a blinking red for those driving east-west (which was me) and a blinking yellow for north-south. I mistakenly thought the intersection was a four-way stop. Not realizing that the car heading towards me from the right had a blinking yellow and was under no obligation to yield to me, I stopped at the intersection, then started to go again and was promptly t-boned by another sedan. My car skidded about 50 feet off the road and slid between two telephone poles. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, I was actually okay. The Contour, on the other hand, was not — I succeeded in totaling a brand-new car after having driven it for only 21 days. Needless to say, my mom was less than thrilled with my carelessness and inexperience.