Found this old gem. Back when I first started driving, I messed up my car hooning in a snowy parking lot. Of course, I took it to my family's mechanic in secret. When it turned out I couldn't hide it, I did what anyone would do: draw a diagram of completely fictional circumstances, leave it on the kitchen counter for my parents to see when they got home and leave to get dinner with my girlfriend. This is that diagram:
I was 16, and had taken my 1996 Ford Escort to my freshly powdered high school parking lot for some glorious winter hooning. All was going well, until upon leaving I was startled by a janitor wearing all black with a black salt spreader on an unlit sidewalk. I ended up slamming my passenger side tire into the curb, and after a quick inspection at a nearby gas station I determined that the car was solid enough to limp home, despite some unsettling noises.
The next day after school, I took my car to our mechanic and told him to just take a look at it for me and keep it quiet. He said he wouldn't tell my parents, but I ended up needing a new tie rod end, new control arm, new bushings, new wheel bearing, and I think some other stuff I don't remember. All in all, about $600 worth of work that would take more than a few hours for him to finish.
Knowing there was no conceivable way I could explain the sudden lightness of my bank account and absence of my car, I did what I described in the first paragraph. Although I ended up just getting to drive our spare car (2001 Ford Explorer) all winter, so the moral of the story was kind of lost.