Driving Me Bananas
Every Friday, my mother goes grocery shopping. The store is a block away from where she lives and she usually drives there. On this particular day, after she finished shopping, she decided to walk back home.
The next morning, she wakes me and my father up in a panic to let us know that her car has been stolen. The cops come, we fill out all the paperwork, and she gets a rental car for the time being.
That’s not even the best part. The following Friday, she drives again to the grocery market and parks the rental right next to her “stolen” car.
Now, her car is a champagne-colored Mitsubishi Diamante—not such a common car or color. Nevertheless, when she sees it, she comments on how similar the car looks to hers, but makes nothing else of it.
A few days later, the cops call us to let us know that the car is in the grocery store’s parking lot just one block away from our house.
Yea, that call was awkward, to say the least. I’ve got plenty of other stories about her, but this is probably the best one.