While living with my mother, one day I came home to find out the bad news that our car had died. I mean truly and forever passed on. Mary being a person who not only could not problem solve, and was unable to cope, and took no responsibility, asked me what we should do. I was sixteen and knew that my Dad would want me to have wheels so I decided to call him.
As always, he came through for me. He found a red and white Corvair that suited me to a tee. That evening he picked me up and gave me the keys to my very own car! I was so excited and thought Mary would be also.
I drove the car home and at first my mother was happy. We went for a ride so I could show it off. When I explained that it was my car and my Dad thought it would be OK to share it with her, she flew into one of her rages.
“Why would he buy you a car? I am not sharing this car! Let me out right now! I’ll walk home before I continue riding in YOUR car!”
I called her bluff, pulled over to the curb and out she went. I had grown tired of her bullying and had decided to take her at her word.
I drove home and went to bed so to lessen her further verbal attacks. She did make it home and the very next day, purchased her own car. It was another lesson for me. Never share a car with a maniac.