It's 1976 and my older brother and I "borrowed" the "batmobile" without telling anyone.
He was 15 and I was 14, and the legal driving age was 16 of course. Grandma had this great old blue '59 Chevy Impala with the huge wings on the back, and when she passed away the year before my parents inherited it. We had always thought it was the coolest car on Earth, it was so huge and cool with those wings. We were itching to drive it since we saw it daily now, and we had both learned to drive in it sitting on Dad's lap out on the country roads, so with Dad at work and Mom off on an errand my fearless brother grabbed the keys and off we went. We were driving around like bosses having the best time ever in that magical old car ... until we pulled up to that last stop sign. And who should appear? Dad pulled up right beside us in his demonstrator from the dealership he sold Fords for! He didn't say a word, just shot us his patented death stare that would strike fear into anyone. Big brother and I just sat there shaking with our mouths open, looking back at him. Dad left a few seconds later, we looked at each other, cursed like sailors, just about peed our pants, then slowly drove the few blocks home, checking the mirror about a hundred times.
Dad never said a word about it, or told Mom, that we found out, so we escaped without getting our hide tanned with anyone's belt. So all in all it was a success, and remains a great memory!