My Father and Initiative

When i was the age of six, my father and I took a trip to New York. I do not remember why, but the reason was more an excuse to go to the Big Apple. My father grew up in New York, or more correctly, just outrside of it. A short train ride and he could be in downtown. He lived either in or around the city for the first forty years of his life.
On the first day of our trip, we got stuck in traffic. The traffic was caused by no one in particular, but there were certainly those who were not helping the situation. My father, being the New Yorker that he is, threw a couple of bird flips in thier direction and uttered (not so discreetly) a few rude phrases. I did not understand, nor did i wish to partake.
I asked my father later that night what a few of those choice phrases meant, not mention why he had done it in the first place. He gave me a very long and serious talk about tradition. He could tell quite quickly i did not buy it. I took the imitative and laid out my arguments. Moral, ethical, and emotional. Before long, I had him vowing to never do it again. That was the day i learned to stand up for what i believe in, and that one day i am going to become a politician.