Mom and the driving lesson.

“I want you driving safely. You just got your license. Pay attention to stop signs. Oh, and red lights too. Slow down, you’re too fast.  Be careful of that squirrel. Have you got enough gas? Why isn’t your belt buckled? Are your mirrors lined up?”

“For crying out loud mom! You’re driving me absolutely nuts! Will you please be quite?”

“I’m just a little nervous. Driving is your father’s responsibility. He should do the teaching.”

“Why are you teaching me? “Don’t drive like your mother.” “Those are his exact words. He’s afraid of your driving.”

“When did he say that?”

“When he saw my license.”

“Well, we’ll see about that. He has a lot of nerve. You remember the tree incident? That story about migrating trees? Don’t you believe it kiddo. The nerve, criticizing my driving. He’s not getting meatloaf tonight. Or anything else I think. Drive slowly, it just rained.”

“You don’t even like driving.”

“I’m still a better driver.”

“You hit a cop car!”

“That was not my fault. He didn’t look like one. His twirling lights weren’t on. Besides, he was too slow.”

“He was in a parade!”

“Never mind that, pay attention. Stop playing with the radio. You should concentrate on driving.”

“Shesh mom, will you relax? Its only to the store.”

“It’s still driving young man. A license is a privilege. Don’t think it’s a right.”

“Can I start the car?”