"Slow down, Mom, you're driving fast."
"No, I'm not."
(I'm only going 35 mph, on my way up to 45 since the speed limit is 40. I make the turn onto Hwy 380--designated at 60 mph.)
"Mom, you're driving too fast again."
"Shari, this road is a road you're supposed to go fast on." (I'm not even up to the speed limit when she begins to tell me about my driving.)
"Mom, but look at those cars over there. They're going the other way and we're going this way."
(I don't reply, but don't look forward to the day when she begins to drive.)
I think I have a number of gray hairs with her name on them.
