Summer On the Road With My Father (Brian Katcher)

Every year, my father and I like to take a road trip together. This is a tradition we started when I was in high school, when we drove down to Florida to visit my grandmother. We've been to all sort of places, including Key West, Denver, and San Francisco. In a couple of days we leave for Arkansas.

One of the most memorable, er, memories happened when I was fifteen. We were in Florida, and Dad had booked us a hotel room. In those days, you'd physically run a credit card through a machine and get a receipt on carbon paper. If you weren't careful, your actual credit card number could end up in the wrong hands.

That's exactly what happened. A couple of weeks after we returned, my grim-faced parents called my dorky teenage self into the living room. It seems someone had charged about $200 of phone sex calls to my father's credit card.

"Is there something you'd like to tell us, Brian?"

Now this clearly wasn't me, though I was the prime suspect. I plead innocence and intelligence. My parents believed me, as I wasn't dumb enough to pull a stunt like that.

But I'm not entirely sure they 100% believed me. I think there's always been a bit of doubt.

I'll have to ask Dad when we're on the road.


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