Drunking and Driving

When I hang out with my mom or sister, we always end up talking about the past. Most of the time we tell stories about how nerdy we are. While visiting my mom last weekend, we ended up talking about how mom taught me how to drive. Mom had a glass of wine in her hand, so we decided to have a little reenactment.

About the time that I turned 15 years old, someone gave my mother a plastic mug with a lid. On the mug was one of those witty sayings. It said something like "my child is learning to drive therefore I drink wine". Mom thought it was hysterical. She also thought it gave her permission to drink wine while I drove her around learning to drive.

I wanted to put in my driving hours and she wanted her wine. So about 10pm we'd pile in the car. Me with a big smile on my face, car keys in my hand. Mom with her witty mug full of wine. It worked out for both of us really. The wine kept her calm and made driving around with teenage daughter a little less hellish.

Pretend this is mom and her witty mug

One evening, I had chosen to drive around a parking lot for a while. It was on a hill and I was learning to drive a stick. So I thought it was very important to learn the starting and stopping on a hill without stalling. The only problem was that this hill was getting the better of me that night...and apparently the stalling and shaking of the car was getting to mom. After 10 minutes of being stuck in this one spot, she'd had enough. Wine was not going to help me this time.

Mom tried explaining to me how to slowly let the clutch out while moving my foot from the break to the gas pedal. Of course I knew how to do it because I was 15 and knew everything. I just had to get my timing down. I was getting very frustrated. Mom finally yelled at me to just stop and she'd move the car for me. No way. I would get it! I wasn't listening to her. When I stalled the car one last time. Mom got out of the car, slamming the door. Just as she rounded the back of the car, I finally got it! I got the timing perfect. I let the clutch out a bit, slid my foot from the break over to the gas pedal. The car finally smoothly backed up...right into my mom. She was instantly at the drivers door, wine in hand, steam coming out her ears.

Pretend that she is really pissed, not just drunk trying to pretend to be pissed. (she was really trying to get into the part here. Yelling at me to take the fucking picture. This shot is just before she lost it and started cracking up)

Realizing I had just hit my mother with the car, I knew I was is major trouble. Seeing her standing there flaming pissed, I lost it. I couldn't stop laughing...which obviously made her more upset. She didn't have to tell me to get out of the car. I knew. I'm pretty sure I sat in the back seat on the way home. She was quiet mad. The quiet mad that makes you question if you will be allowed to leave the house ever again, let alone get behind the wheel of a car. I spent the car ride home swinging back in forth between wondering about my future and trying unsuccessfully not to laugh at the fact that I had hit my own mother with the car.

Neither of us really remember what happened when we got home. Luckily my mother can look back and laugh at the situation. Although she had tried to use it as a guilt trip on me...it never works because it only gives me the giggles.

Here is one last photo of my mother. She says this is her really pissed off look. She also said this is what she really wanted to tell me after I hit her with the car.

Yes this is my classy mother. When I told her this would be going online, she said good. Now the world can really know what she thinks. It's also now the photo that shows up on my phone when she calls.