I asked one of our staff members to send me the following story so I could share it with you - this tops my electric toothbrush story:
Recently I was telling Margaret and Sharon about some of the funny stories that we told about my mother at her recent 90th birthday – and believe me – they went on for some time – my mother adding details when necessary.
One was about the time that my father tried to teach her to drive. Now I have to paint the picture for you, early 1960’s -my father{ – a large man - 250 lb 6 foot tall and my mother – 105 lb . 5 foot tall. } drove an enormous Oldsmobile complete with gigantic fins and almost as long as a city block. You can imagine that my mother was somewhat intimidated to learn on this “beast”, but my father could not be dissuaded from teaching her.
We lived in suburbia, on the south shore of Montreal. Off they set on the quiet residential streets and all was going well until they drove up to the corner of Taschereau Boulevard – a four lane highway that was a couple of blocks from our home. My dad distinctly said, “Wait for the traffic”. My mother, usually an independent thinker, decided that under the circumstances she had better follow EXACTLY what my father instructed. When the oncoming cars were almost upon her, she stomped on the gas peddle and lurched the car into the traffic lane .
My father – a usually quiet man – was white knuckling the dashboard (pre-seatbelt era), while his eyes bulged out of his head and from somewhere deep inside him a primal scream emerged. My mother, noting that something was wrong, said “Well, you said to WAIT for the traffic. I thought that you were testing my reflexes!!!” Needless to say, she enrolled in a driving school the next week and the instructor earned every penny. On the final day of her classes, he took my mother out for coffee and spent the entire time telling her that he thought that he should close his business and open a laundromat! Cheers, Marilyn
