When you’re an only child, you tend to be very close to your parents. At least, that is the case with me. In adulthood especially, my mom is one of my best friends, and we always have hilarious escapades when we’re together. Since we’re both intelligent women who completely lack common sense, we often title our outings things like, “Lucy and Ethel Take Two Toddlers to Visit GG,” in honor of the fabulous Lucille Ball. So, when I asked Mom to drive me to U of M Hospital for a colonoscopy, I knew I’d come out of it with some sort of great story. I was not disappointed.
I should tell you Mom’s town, like mine, has only two stoplights. Thus, she was a little unnerved by the amount of traffic, by the number of lanes and stoplights, and by the honking. Our adventure actually occurred across the street from the hospital. We honestly could’ve parked our car right there and walked over. Maybe we should have.
It started like this: I was the navigator and said, “Okay, now we just need to go straight through this light and turn left.”
Mom: “We’re turning left here?”
Me: “No. We have to get in the lane to go straight. Then we turn left at the top of the hill. You have to get over, Mom. Get over.” (She was in the Right Turn Only lane.)
There were two cars about ten yards back approaching us in the lane she needed.
Mom: “I CAN’T get over! I can’t!”
Me: “You have to. Mom, GET OVER!”
After much yelling back and forth, we stopped at the light, in the Right Turn Only lane. Still, not a huge deal.
Me: “Okay, when the light turns green, you just go straight. Okay, Mom? Just go straight. You can do it. You’re not the first person to be in this lane and need to go straight.”
Mom: “But there are cars there! I can’t just GO.” Then the idiot behind us honked. This turned my mother into Lucy. She didn’t cry, but any rational thought left her, because now she was inconveniencing the person behind us, and the driver was mad at her.
Me: “Dang it. I should’ve just driven this morning. That was dumb. I’m not knocked out or loopy right now. I need you to drive after.” I looked at the incredibly long stoplight. “Okay, we’re going to switch. Ready, Mom? We’re going to switch and I’m going to drive.”
Mom: “What? Is there time? What if there’s not time? You get out and we’ll see if there’s time.”
Me: “What are YOU gonna do? Leave me? We’re switching.”
This was when things got very crazy. Apparently, I should have specified how we were switching. But Ethel never specifies, she just tells Lucy what they’re doing, and hopes for the best. So, I got out and walked around the back. As I came up to the OPEN driver’s door, I said, “Okay, c’mon, Mom. We’re switching!” I thought she’d get OUT. Nope, Mom started skooching across the console, over to the passenger side. Unfortunately, she hadn’t put the car in park, and it began to not-so-slowly drive forward.
Me: “Mom, the car’s moving. The car’s MOVING! Mom, you have to press the brake.”
Again, the jerk behind us honked, like we didn’t know the car was moving and I was outside. Thanks, buddy.
I grabbed the inside handle of the door, hopped on one foot next to the car, grabbed the back of the driver’s seat, and flung myself inside. My foot hit the brake as the tip of Mom’s car went into cross traffic. Miraculously, no honks from crossing cars.
Mom: “Don’t you DARE write about this in the paper!”
Me: Sly grin. Did she really think I’d pass on a story that good? Stay tuned for more adventures from Lucy and Ethel.
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