Yesterday I had to pick up my mother in my little red car to go to my little sister’s 43rd birthday. She is 78, stubborn as a mule and very, very distrustful so I was warned that there was a possibility that she would refuse to get in my little Microcar and just wait for my dad who was already at the party to pick her up instead.
He had planned that morning to collect my Niece from elementary school as he said it was more fun to do and since he had no intention to pick up my mum himself. So I relieved him from his duty by volunteering for the job and drove off to my parents house.
But as I was warned I rang the bell and told her in a resolute manner: “Come. In my car, dad couldn’t come.” To my surprise she didn’t object. And then the fun started. “Why don’t you start the car right away?” It’s a Diesel mum, wait. “O my dear God is it supposed to shake like that?” grabbing everything she could grab with two hands within her reach. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Got my license, check! Mum! We only left the parking space a few yards simmer down!
The rest of the way she grumbled continuously and said things like “It’s not even a real car.” and “Why can’t your dad pick me up?” but I ignored her and drove carefully through the village to my sister. And I thoroughly enjoyed it every inch of the way. There is a first for everything, but this one was by far the best. Such fun!