The Mother Of All Back-Seat Drivers

(I’ve been driving for five years, with nary a ticket, yet my mom always thinks that I’m going to crash. We are driving down the highway and my mom is next to me in the passenger’s seat, and my sister and brother are in the backseat. They can’t see it, but Mom is getting more and more tense, so they’re just talking.)

Car: *loud bump*

Mom: *blood-curdling scream*

Me: “Jesus Christ, Mom! It was just a pothole!”

Brother & Sister: “What’s wrong?!”

Mom: “No, it wasn’t. You hit someone or you got hit!” *clutching at face* “Pull over! Pull over!” *tearing at hair*

(Concerned, I did so, and there was nary a scratch or any evidence that I hit or was hit. When I pointed this out to her, she insisted on my sister driving my car instead of me. My sister… who has so many tickets from hitting cars, I have lost count. Mothers.)