Drama Queen

Greek mothers can be dramatic at the best of times. They’re like opera divas who never made it on stage so they exercise their graphic facial expressions, giant gestures and powerful vocal chords on their families. Their range of emotions, from fiery tigress to guilt-inducing martyr, would rival those of Callas. It’s very entertaining and makes for good stories…like this one:

Several years ago, shortly after receiving my driving license, I borrowed my mother’s car to go to the movies. This was the first and last time I would ever touch this car. My mother can only drive automatic cars so my father had bought her this beautiful, white, sleek Toyota Camry when they first came out in South Africa. She kept it in mint condition, so I when I got behind the wheel, I received a slew of instructions on how to drive it. “Relax ma,” I said with teenage arrogance, “I think I know what I’m doing.” And off I went.

The cinema was about 20 minutes from our house. I went there and back without a hitch…or so I thought. The main instruction my mother had given me was to leave the car at the bottom of the incline in front of our garage and she would take care of the uphill reverse parking herself. Just to set the scene for you, we lived in a complex with other town houses, so right in front of our garage was the neighbour’s house, surrounded by a wall.

I leave the car in front of the garage, as instructed, and get out. My mother bursts through our front door with a tortured look on her face and screams hysterically “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE CAR?!!”. 

Act One. 

Momentarily distracted by her flapping hands, alternating between summons to God and burying themselves in her hair, I suddenly notice that reams of white smoke are coming out from the back tires of the car! What the…

My mother circles the car and I duck back inside to see what I did. I then notice that the hand brake was up…and that it had been up for the full 20-minute drive home! My stomach sinks to my toes and I get out the car to face her wrath. I explain what happened. “YOU’VE DESTROYED THE CAR!!” Tears glaze over her eyes and her voice starts to break. 

I should mention that my mom is the embodiment of the phrase ‘dynamite comes in small packages’. She is a tiny, petite lady who is usually timid by nature, so this performance was quite enthralling for me. I should also mention that my natural reaction to stressful situations (and this is really something that will be the end of me one day) is to giggle.

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!” she implores me, her voice several octaves higher than when she started. My only response is to contort my face in an attempt to keep a smile from creeping across, as well as an escaped snort to keep the giggles back. Now, if you’ve ever been hopping mad at someone and they laugh at you, death by a stiletto heel is usually the next response. Her eyes widen and I run into the house, muttering “I’m sorry” in between muffled bouts of laughter. 

Act Two.

I spend a few minutes composing myself in the house, take a deep breath and get ready to go outside and face my mother. Before I get to the door, it bursts open again, and there’s my mother, at the absolute pinnacle of her nerves.

“Not only did you destroy the car, but you WRECKED THE NEIGHBOUR’S WALL!!!”

Act Three. The Grand Finale.

“What are you talking about?” I sputter. The giggles are gone now. I go outside and I see that our car has crashed through a section of the neighbour’s wall and is resting in their yard.

Apparently, despite the fact that the car was smoking as a result of its brake-pads been worn down to nothing, my mother thought it would be a good idea to reverse it up a hill into our garage. Naturally, half-way up the hill, the brakes gave out and the car rolled right into, or rather through, the neighbour’s wall. This was, of course, my fault.

She finally calmed down. The car was saved and I had to personally apologise to the neighbour and make up for damages. It may have all been worth it, just for that performance, which, still makes me giggle. And, I have NEVER left the handbrake up again!