The above is a picture of my first car; it was nicknamed “the digger” because of its proclivity to drive through yards and dig ditches.  I’m 3rd from the right and am surrounded by some of my friends (all but one are still friends today).  This is the story of when I made a bad decision about where cars should (or should not) be driven: It was Friday, March 13, 1992, and Chad and I had 30 minutes to kill before Trey would clock out at Kroger.  Next…