4 Diary of a Madcap Mama or Driving Under the Influence of Laughter (cont.)

I’m sure that, after reading the Shirley Diaries: Driving Under the Influence of Laughter, that you think I’ve made some of this up, or that I’ve embellished, or that I’m in deep therapy! Believe me, I speak the truth….you can’t make this stuff up! I also have a witness…my similarly scarred sister, The Lydia.

I’m sure you may also think that all this driving madness runs in the family and has affected my own driving habits. It has, but not in the way you may think. Being a survivor of The Shirley has actually perfected my driving endeavors. Consequently I have learned to drive like a champ! I can maneuver a mid-sized SUV like a spiffy Italian sports car – expertly avoiding small children, dogs and armadillos – with the finesse of steering a large rodeo horse through a barrel race. I can skillfully traverse speed bumps with gentle grace, secure in my knowledge that they really are lumps of cement designed to slow one down for a reason.

My sister, on the other hand – The Lydia – has become her own personal version of The Shirley. This ‘nut’ fell only so far as the base of the tree and was forced to grow in the shade of The Shirley. With no hungry squirrel to safely carry her off to another yard, The Lydia has racked up miles of her own auto episodes, although not as serious in nature. Yes, The Lydia also has a history rich in comedy of error-type driving events.

What’s the twist? It’s two-fold. Firstly, The Lydia doesn’t toss her head back and cackle hysterically in the wake of her driving perversions. Nope, not at all. The Lydia giggles! Wildly, whacky, passionate giggles of goofiness will spew from her lips as she wipes beads of sweat from her brow in a mock ‘whew, I can’t believe we lived through it’ gesture'. Secondly, The Lydia does have some sense of decorum when it comes to embarrassing driving moments. That is, she will nervously…while giggling with the veracity of a hyena on steroids…look around her to see who was watching, who saw her do that crazy thing.

Meanwhile, The Shirley and her beau of 44 years have retired to the country. When I drive her anywhere she is always prompting me to go faster, telling me, “the speed limit is 70 here!” even though I’m going 68mph. She continues to drive wildly, but now cows as well as people, have to avoid her four-wheeled assault.

I’m certain, however, that tales of The Shirley still float around the Southwest Houston area. Teenagers there probably think tales of The Shirley are just an Urban Legend, designed by parental units to intimidate snipe-y teenagers into behaving like human beings. I can hear the threats from here…. “if you don’t straighten up and fly right, I’ll go Shirley on you, mister! Then we’ll see who’s embarrassed!”

As for me and my sister, we can only laugh – sometimes snorting wine through our nostrils – as we recount the tales of The Shirley. We love to tell them in front of her to get her glorious reactions. She never fails to disappoint as she recoils – laughing loudly, mind you – and claims not to remember this or that.

But, I am happy to report that we have survived. We have laughed uproariously about her and we have put down deep roots and bloomed in the shade of The Shirley!

© July/2008 by C. D. Duffin
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