My dad built mine when I was three. It was a 1967 mustang with real wheels and a maple frame which he intricately detail-painted down to the finest nuances of light and texture. It took him two months of working from before dawn till aftet midnight every weekend. Both days.

In fact, it was around this time that my mother spent a lot of time with her sisters on the weekend, so I'd watch dad work all day while he imparted fatherly wisdom and told funny stories and we'd get McDonald's for lunch. He told me all about the history of muscle cars while I searched flr close-up photos of the Mustang in question so that he had a decent reference while he painted the more intricate details.

The most memorable night I had in that bed came about a week later, when I heard my parents arguing until at least 3am. The exhaust pipe (not a real one, but a home-made replica) was positioned against the wall in such a way that I could hear in intricate detail what my parents were screaming about as their rage reverberated through the maple frame.

It was the fight that ruined their marriage and my childhood.

It went like this:

Mother: "I swear, I didn't know what I was thinking. It will never happen again. What the fuck more do you want?"

Father: "Did you think I wouldn't find OUT?"

M: "I wasn't in my right mind, I'm SORRY, OKAY?!"

F: "When we married, we made vows to each other. About honesty. About... (this is where his voice cracked and tears instantly flooded my eyes) About TRUSTING EACH OTHER! How can I ever trust you now?!"

M: "I can't... I don't... Please."

F: "I'm sorry, it's too late. You posted on AskReddit without even checking if your question had been asked recently. I can never look at you the same way."

Turns out my mother had been preparing to leave for some time because my father became obsessed with the bed.

7/10, wouldn't do for the first time because it never happened.