Nope of the day

When I was a kid, maybe 10-11 years old, I was down at my best friend's house. His Dad was taking the battery out of their '69 Fury III. One terminal seemed pretty stuck, and he was prying upward on it hard with an 8" square-shank screwdriver. The terminal popped off unexpectedly and he forced the screwdriver through his right hand--like, most of the blade was showing out the back. He just made this pained grunting sound and looked at what he'd done. He said nothing. He then calmly walked up to the house, opened the door, and shouted to his wife, "I gotta run downtown for a bit, Shirl." He came back to the garage, looked at us (I'm sure we were completely agog--we said nothing), and got in their '73 LeSabre. He reached over and started it with his left hand, then pushed the shifter down into reverse and backed out, right hand on his lap the whole time, screwdriver still through it. He drove away, headed to the hospital.

I looked at my buddy (who still looked stunned) and said, "You can never cry again."

About an hour later, his Dad was back home, putting the new battery in the Plymouth. He didn't mention what happened to anyone until asked about his bandaged hand at suppertime.