Wednesday, April 23, 2014

A to Z: Test Drive

There is really nothing to compare to buying a car. All those car dealerships on every street corners, the salespeople hollering like prostitutes offering two-for-one's, the rush to get you to buy no matter what.  It is horrible, and a lot of the time people will buy a car just to stop the madness.

My mother-in-law is already a little crazy. She is so overanxious that she is paralyzed whenever she has to make a decision. Since she is alone now, she is supposed to be able to take care of herself and make her own decisions. So far, the only big decisions she has made seem to involve calling or texting her son so he can make the decision for her, whatever that decision might be. (Either she doesn't realize that she is driving her son crazy, or she realizes it and just doesn't care how disruptive she is; it's all about her.)

Larry wants to be a good son, so when her car finally gave up the ghost, he tried to help her. He asked her what kind of car she wanted, and where she wanted to look. These questions sent her into paroxyms of indecisiveness. She wanted what she had. They don't make those cars anymore. She wanted Larry to decide, and Larry was just as determined not to decide anything. He told her about several websites where Ruth could look at a variety of cars and prices while she was at home; she wasn't comfortable with that, etc.

Finally she was ready to go to the lot and choose. Larry went with her, and after awhile, I started getting these texts. These texts let me know how things were going.

"I am in the backseat while she is test driving," read the first one.

"Valium would be nice," read the next one.

And so it went, my husband freaking out over his mother's mad driving skills. I felt a little bad for him, having been driving with my own mother and her tendency to slam on the brakes 300 feet from the intersections. I hoped his mother would be able to make a decision soon.

"I hope you have some idea of how nerve wracking this is," read the last one.

It sucks to be old, I am sure. It must doubly suck to be old and crazy. Finally, Ruth selected a car--and immediately found something wrong with it.

It's always something.

1 comment:

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