“Damn, damn, double damn!”
The twins and I giggled nervously as we listened to the explosion from our normally selfcontrolled father. We were all tired of travelling, even fourteenyearold Phillip, sprawled in a weary slump on the front passenger seat. Our car stopped abruptly on the verge of the narrow, winding road. My father thumped the steering wheel hard – really hard – and swore again! This time it was under his breath. His words sounded like the ones Phillip said the seniors at his high school used when they lost a rugby match. Really bad words.