“Slow down!” Mom yelled in my ear as I began my first turn.

Her loud ranting made my ears ring and my hand seemed to move by itself to protect my precious hearing.

“Get your hand back on the wheel!” She screeched at me again.

Startled, I jumped, yanking the steering wheel with the hand remaining on the wheel, causing the car to swerve left and then swerve back to the right as I brought my hand from my ear, onto the fuzzy brown wheel cover.

As she screamed again, I slammed on the brakes, trying to control the now-zigzagging vehicle. The car veered off the road and Mom screamed louder, clutching the tightening seatbelt on her chest with her white knuckles.

My lips moved in silent prayer as I made a mental note to wait for Dad next time I needed a driving instructor. Finally, I gained control and continued on down the road.

“You hit him, you know. You drove right over him,” Mom murmured just loud enough for me to hear.

I’d had enough! Without a word, I stopped the car, threw it in park, and stared at her in disbelief.  I didn’t care if I was still in the middle of the road. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I turned to her, trying to keep calm and form my response.

“Look, Mom, I can’t drive with you yelling and screaming at me like this. If you can’t control yourself while I’m driving then I’m done. You drive us home and I’ll wait for Dad to get home and take me out again.”

“But… you… you ran him over!”

“MOM!” I lost my temper. “We’re in a graveyard! He’s ALREADY dead!”

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