As I'm sure the majority of you have done, when I was a teenager I decided to run away. I don't distinctly recall the reason, but I'm pretty sure it was something major like my parents wouldn't let me do something that would have ended with me losing some fingers and an eye, which is just like parents to keep their kids from doing fun things.
Regardless of the reason, I pronounced to my father that I hated everyone and was going to run away.
Me: I'm serious, I'm running away.
Dad: Fine, where do you want to go?
Me: I'm not telling you because then you'll know and that defeats the whole purpose of running away!
Dad: Well, I was going to offer to drive you to the bus station and buy you a one way ticket.
Dad: You don't have to stay where the bus drops you off, but at least I'll know that you are out of the county.
Dad: well, if you just "run" away from home, you probably won't get very far and end up back here.
I was going to mention to him that I ran Cross Country and would at least make it five miles away before tiring, but...
Me: FINE! Let me go pack my things.
Dad: Well, I would like to point out that most of your stuff isn't really yours, I mean your mother and I paid for those things, we're just letting you use them.
Dad: You can take whatever you paid for, but the rest has to stay here.
Me: but... but...
Dad: ok, fine, you can take the clothes you are wearing, now is there anything else you've paid for?
Me: YOU'RE NO FAIR!
At this point I stomp upstairs
Dad: well, if you aren't running away today then you'll have time to weed the garden before supper.