Car trouble

The first night of play practice, my 16-year-old took her friends home from practice. We live a 5-minute walk from school. Driving friends home ensured at least 20 minutes behind the wheel.
At 8:45, she called. One friend was home, but the car was out of gas.
My husband looked up from the computer at me. “You can take the gas to her, can’t you?”
“I’m ready for bed. Beside, if the car needs help starting, I won’t know how to do it.”
He sighed. The cars always malfunction when his women are driving and he always gets stuck with stopping his activity to fix them for us.
He was home a whole five minutes when our teen burst in.
“I drove the car into a ditch. A deep ditch.” she wailed. “It will take a crane to get it out.”
I gave her a consoling hug. She was shaking and sobbing, “I slowed down and turned into the drive to my friend’s house. It was dark and I missed it. She yelled, ‘Ditch! Ditch!’ but the car was already over the edge.
I hugged her. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Everyone’s fine. But mom,” she wailed. “This is absolutely the worst day of my life.”
“Hmmm, it is bad,” I said. I pulled on some clothes and we all climbed in the mini-van to go to the car. Its front end kissed grass while the left rear tire, two feet in the air searched vainly for pavement.
Gawkers stood staring at the car that took a dive.
I looked at the little car and the big crowd. “If everyone looking worked together, they could lift that car out of the ditch to the road.”
My husband went over and asked for their help. They guys hitched up their pants, pushed up shirt sleeves, exposing muscle and heaved the car backwards until both rear tires touched pavement. They pushed uphill until the front end joined them. There wasn’t a scratch on the car.
One shaking teen and I headed home. “This will go on the insurance, won’t it?” she asked.
I reflected a second. “No ticket, no physical damage to people or car. Everything back where it should be,” I looked at her, “Nope. No insurance claim to file.”
She started to laugh with relief then wailed, “Everyone at school will know about it. I am NOT going to school tomorrow. This is absolutely the worst day of my life. I am so embarrassed.”
“You’ll go. And it isn’t the worst day of your life.” My lack of sympathy shocked her. “It absolutely cannot be the worst day of your life. You said that the day you got that bad hair cut. So today can’t be the worst day of your life.”
Home again, she tried unsuccessfully to do homework. Her mind was too busy digesting the shock of driving into a ditch to ponder trigonometric functions. Her concerned dad came to the door.
I think we should go for a drive, tonight. It’s like falling off a horse. You have to get right back on again.”
They went. It worked. Home again, she asked, “Will this be in your column?”
“If you don’t mind.”
She didn’t. In fact, the next day she went to school and regaled everyone with details of the second worst day of her life.