Driving With Grandma


When I rode anywhere with Grandma Ruth driving,
I sat in the backseat with my seat belt securely fastened.

We were coming out of the Montgomery Ward parking lot, cruising uphill to a stop sign.
Grandma messed up and put the car in reverse, backed up and smacked the car behind us rather hard.
I yelled, “Grandma, the car is in reverse! You hit that car!”
She fiddled with the gear shift, and we went forward, then backwards, and hit the car harder.
A large redneck was yelling at my grandma, and, when he said for the second time that she was out of her effing mind, she floored it.
We shot out onto US 40 West and narrowly missed two drivers and one pedestrian. The redneck followed us and kept showing my grandmother his middle finger. We lost him by going the wrong way down a one way street. I told Grandma that I would not tell my mom and dad, as long as she took me to Dairy Queen for ice cream. It was very good.


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