Going “Out” In My Ka

(I live with my parents well into my twenties. To keep a modicum of privacy, when my parents ask of an evening, “Oh, you are off out? Where are you going?” I say, “Out.” It drives them crazy, but they understand that this is how I can keep living with them: by having parts of my life private. I tell them about a man if we become exclusive, but not if we just go on a couple of dates. Flash forward 15 years. I am living on the other side of the world. I ring my dad, and we are chatting about random stuff.)

Me: “Oh, yes, I meant to tell you. We bought a new car.”

Dad: “Oh, what model?”

Me: “It’s a Ka.”

Dad: *resentfully* “Fine, be like that.”

Me: “No! It’s a Ford KA! It’s a small, three-door city car that–” *realising* “–Ford does not sell in Australia.”

(I think my parents still regard me as a sulky and laconic teenager.)