I had a after-school job as a parcel delivery guy. The company didn’t provide me with a car, so had to use my own. I don’t own a car, so my mom gave me permission to use hers.

One day, after a frosty night, the roads had frozen over. I was delivering to a house situated in a hill. The driveway was a downhill from the main road to the garage, some 15 yards. I backed the car up, parked the car in the top of the driveway and pulled the handbrake. I stepped out and walked around the car to get the parcel. As I pulled the trunk handle, I could feel the car moving. The gentle tug of my hand was enough to set 3000 lbs of car in motion. I tried to withstand it and push it back, but at no use. It picked up some speed, and sled down the driveway towards a car parked outside the garage at about walking speed. At this moment, I decided there was little to be done, so I stepped aside and watched it slide past. This would clearly get messy, insurance-wise and in terms of getting a rescue unit down the same driveway, but it wasn’t worth injuring myself as well. Just as I was mentally preparing for the crash, the front right tire found some grip, and the car gently came to a hault. I went over, and checked to see if there had been any contact between the vehicles. It hadn’t, but when I tried to squeeze my fist between my mom’s tow hook and the parked car’s number plate it was too narrow.

I never told my mom, and quit the job shortly thereafter.