I had a brush with death or so I thought...Until a read someone else's blog. I'm still laughing. You know who are.Haha. Mine was with my father. My father who knows everything there is to know about cars, EVERYTHING. ( of course) Silly me womehow I'd forgotten that. I was telling my mother that I thought my breaks were going. Sometime between that conversation and watching my car drive down the street. My dad took it upon himself to test my breaks. He is not the type repair things the type to repair a car they way, say, a mechanic would. He has his own special way. So needless to say I'm screaming " Oh my God!" and without thinking I jump in the car with him. Some people love their cars too much. Not me. I just love it more than the bus. So he decides to test the breaks by driving really fast and then stopping. So as I'm writing Help Me to passerbys I'm thinkingand wondering just how much my daddy loves me. He stops, then continue within the speed limits and he's acting as if what he did was normal. He's talking while I'm praying and when we get home my mother and sister are looking at me like why ? I couldn't answer that then. I can't answer that now. But when dad asks me did I get the breaks done. I will say yes whether they are or not.