Grandpa's truck

Another dad story.
My cousin was visiting from back east.  It was her first time seeing mountains like ours.  I remember her comment as we picked them up from the airport.  We were driving home when she asked " do you always see mountains like these?"  It never occurred to me that someone had never seen mountains.  My reply was "wait till you see where we live, the mountain is our backyard."  We enjoyed our time getting to know each other.
Now growing up my dad had us driving at a very young age.  It started with backing up trailers. He was always moving trailers around.  We called it "playing musical trailers".  I think it was his way of keeping inventory.  I have backed up more trailers than I can count.  When we went to buck hay bails if your were too small to lift a 50 lbs bail you drove the truck with the trailer attached.  So by the age of 12 I was very comfortable driving a truck.  One day we (my sister Stephanie, my cousin, and I) were out driving Grandpa's truck that my dad had recently restored.  I think we were just taking the trash up the lane.  My cousin asked if she could drive the truck back down the lane.  Stephanie and I were a little hesitant.  We still didn't know this cousin very well nor did we know if she knew how to drive a truck, or if we should let her drive our grandpa's newly restored one.  She convinced us that she had also been driving for a long time and was very capable.
As she pulled up to the driveway she punched the gas instead of the brake, driving right through the garage divider.  We were all frozen with fear.  Steph  and I knew it was our fault.  We should have listened to that still small voice. All the parents came out to see what had happened.  My uncle (my mom's brother) was frantically pacing and sweating up a storm not really knowing what to do.  My dad comes out, takes one look at the truck.  Which by the grace of God didn't have a scratch on it.  And says simply,

 "That's a good truck!"

  My uncle couldn't believe his ears.  We couldn't believe it.  That was it?  Where was the yelling and the grounding or the threatening to whip us with a belt?  There was none.  I am sure he was mad even furious but he was always so calm in times of disaster.  I think he knew that yelling wasn't going to fix things and we already felt so bad about the whole thing, that a calm approach was more damning than any grounding could ever accomplish.