Today, my mom asked me if she could ride with me to Chesterfield so she can get a few things done without having to drive. We live 50 minutes away and I'm world's best son of course, so I told her it would be fun. I always think to myself that I know she is going to drive me crazy from the passenger's seat. The ride up was nice; no complaints, just enjoyment. Didn't even have the radio on. As the day goes on, the calm that my mom exhibited in the morning had faded. She probably had 911 already dialed into her phone just in case.
Mom: "Slow up, that car's turning."
Mom: "Andy, they're hitting their brakes."
Mom: "Why are you so close to that car's bumper?"
Mom: "That bus is stopping, watch out."
Mom: "It's a red light."
Mom: "Watch that truck!"
Mom: "Put your phone down! Stop texting!"
Me: "Mom, I'm not texting."
Mom: "I don't care."
The first day I got my learners permit, she made me pull over to let her drive the rest of the way back home. Eleven years later, nothing's changed, except I'm not letting her drive. I've got things to do this year that would not be possible because we would still be in Chesterfield.
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