I'm writing this column from home today because I can't go anywhere.

That's because my car is gone.

For the first time since I was about 17, I am without wheels, stuck, stymied, housebound.

I just looked out the window and, sure enough, still no car in the driveway.

It's gone, peeled out, departed, vamoosed. Every time I look out at the space where my car should be (I know I parked it there last night) it's with a shock that I realize it's gone and I start to reach for the phone to call the police.

And then I realize that would be an overreaction. Because I know exactly who has my car and where it is and why it was taken.

It's because I have heard the six most terrifying words the father of a teenage girl can hear.

OK, the second six most terrifying words.

"Daddy, can I borrow the car?"

And then I have heard the other most terrifying words a parent can hear. In this case, they are coming from my own mouth. "Of course, sweetie. Just be careful."

My daughter, who got her license this year (on her first try, I might add) is a careful and competent driver, although she does do some alarming things.

Things like slowing down at a yellow light, signaling at all turns and stopping at crosswalks for pedestrians.

I am afraid this will startle other drivers and, oh, I don't know, cause them to stop talking on their cell phones in alarm.

(More likely, they'd just tell whoever they are talking to, "Whoa, I just saw a young blonde woman yield the right of way to a car in an intersection. Yeah, just hang on, let me text you all the details.") I remember when I got my license and the thrill I first felt when I went out to the driveway to fire up the boiler on the Stanley Steamer. OK, it wasn't that long ago. It was actually my mother's baby blue Ford Maverick.

Ford made the Maverick "sporty" but it was actually a replacement for the Falcon. It could go from 0 to 60, often on the very same day.

But it had four wheels and a radio (AM only, but it could pull in WPRO) and represented freedom and independence, as long as I didn't drive it after dark.

Sad to say, those days of driving just to drive are over. And, to her credit, my daughter usually has a definite destination and mission when she takes the wheel. I don't think she knows the thrill of just turning the key and heading out.

I'd like to show her. Maybe she'll let me borrow the car.

TOM REILLY is a Sun Chronicle news editor. His mother eventually traded up to the Grenada. He can be reached at 508-236-0332 or at treilly@thesunchronicle.com. To read his blog, go to thesunchronicle.com and click on "blogs."