Ready to go joy-riding?

Mom’ll be talking about her friends, and I still don’t know how she knows so many people like this, but sooner or later the comparison will pop up—they’re just like Thelma and Louise.

Have I ever even seen that movie?

Or do I just imagine from Mom’s stories that joy-riding through life is a thing?

Mom has always had a way of leaving an impression — the kind you remember at the red light long after everything else has whirled past.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Soon after I wrote my seventh-grade English paper saying my Dad was my hero, Mom asked:

“What about me? Do you ever think of me as your hero?”

I didn’t want to hurt her feelings anymore, but did she really want me to point out the obvious?

Heroes don’t cook fried chicken for dinner with rolls.

They don’t vacuum the orange shag carpet during the fourth quarter.

And they definitely don’t run to the store at least two times a day for milk.

No matter how she wanted me to see what she meant to me, I was just a kid.

It takes a lot of hindsight for us kids to see our own mom for the hero that she really is.

We’ll find the answer in the three-car pile-up in the A&P parking lot.

Will you be Thelma or Louise this time?

All I cared about was getting the front seat of the boxy, tan Audi station wagon.

Feet on the dashboard, direct view of mom turning up the volume—Donna Summer’s On the Radio is playing.

Belting out the words so loud, I drowned out everything but Donna.

Mom must have been singing, too.

She never missed a beat when her favorite song came on.

Like that Nike trip when she got up on stage and sang with the Temptations.

Dad always missed the major events: fires, there were three, and holidays, so it made sense he’d miss Mom Live with the Temptations.

It was summertime, after all, and the air conditioning was running full force, barely fanning us, but loud enough to hum along too.

Back when a quick errand meant all three of us piling into Nellie.

Every car Mom ever owned was named Nellie…different car, same name.

It was one of her Southern quirks.

She had a slew of others, too.

Every story had a first and last name. Nobody was ever just “Billy” or “Mary.”

And when Skylar once asked her how to speak with a Southern accent for something she was doing, Mom thought about it.

“I can’t remember… Honest injun,” she said.

Mom didn’t just tell stories.

She lived as if one were about to happen.

Even if it was only in the A&P parking lot.

Heather and I jumped out of Nellie.

“Wait, one more thing.”

I crouched in the window frame, still listening.

She’s gripping the steering wheel like she’s about to take off any second.

Beneath the wide-brimmed glasses, she looks at me.

And then — poof.

She’s gone.

Scratch the shopping list.

Old Nellie lunges forward while Mom steers the getaway car.

Perfect aim.

The shopping carts scatter like jacks.

Nellie keeps going.

We run up to the car, not in the least bit worried. We’re talking our reputation here.

Did anybody see us?

Nobody came running. Thank goodness.

“What’d you do that for?”

And.

Just like that.

Before our very eyes.

Old Nellie does another magic trick—she jolts like a jackrabbit.

And Mom’s steering again.

No thought to the… oh no, not the car.

“Stop! Stop!”

One car.

Two cars.

Three.

Thank goodness there were only three.

The bag boy who always loved Mom came running.

The store manager came running.

A small crowd came running.

No one was laughing.

“Mrs. Cunningham! Mrs. Cunningham! Are you all right?”

Heather and I stand there absolutely mortified.

The kind of mortified when you’re certain a Most Wanted poster is about to go up in the A&P.

(Or, at least until they go out of business.)

But nobody was hurt.

Rest easy.

Not that it helped Heather and me.

When we finally slunk back into the car, we both fought for the back seat, since it was easier to hide back there.

Mom managed to drive away without clocking a fourth car.

We couldn’t help ourselves.

Turn up the music.

Girls Just Want to Have Fun.

Were we laughing or crying?

Tears ran down our perspiring cheeks.

That collision was downright the most humiliating—and funniest—thing that had ever happened to us.

Though not to Mom.

Not knowing yet that the Audi would be recalled for this very problem, she said it could’ve been worse.

Like the time she waved goodbye to her friends across the swimming pool,  most likely trying to impress a boy, and her bathing suit top fell down.

You know what, the A&P parking lot wasn’t so bad.

And turn up the volume, another great song’s on the radio.

Because with Mom, you’re always on a Thelma and Louise adventure.

So now that I’ve lived the life of motherhood, I see that Mom was right to ask that question all those years ago.

Turns out, heroes don’t always wear capes or get dressed in telephone booths.

They don’t have to look like the ones on television.

She’s the reason we were laughing as soon as we pulled out of that A&P parking lot.

Stories like that, well, they happened to Mom first.

She showed us how to tell a feel-good story — most definitely about Thelma and Louise.

It’s how she showed us how to live the story first. Create them in real time.

And when you don’t have time to curl your hair—wear the wig, grab those wide-brimmed glasses, and make sure you’ve got a story to boot.

And when you think about impact… remember Mom—behind the wheel of Nellie booting a few carts and three cars in the A&P parking lot.

Turn up the music, would you?

Because when you grow up with a hero-mom like mine…

joy-riding with mom becomes a way of life.

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Nellie’s Joy-Riding Playlist

If playlists were a thing back then, Nellie would’ve had one.

When I was little, they stopped playing Sing a Song on the radio.

“Why won’t they play it?” I asked Mom.

She tried to explain that songs fall out of popularity.

I couldn’t understand that.

If it was the best song to me… shouldn’t it be the best song to everyone?

Mom, of course, had a much broader range.

She loved Barry Manilow—even went to his concert with her friends.

And I’ll never forget when someone told her,

“You love Barry, but there’s someone even better… his name is Billy Joel.”

(That felt like a bold statement for Mom at the time.)

The rest of the playlist?

It’s the soundtrack of our joy rides—windows down, music up, and Mom never missing a beat.

• On the Radio – Donna Summer
• Celebration – Kool & the Gang
• Flashdance…What a Feeling – Irene Cara
• Girls Just Want to Have Fun – Cyndi Lauper
• I Got You Babe – Sonny & Cher
• Sing a Song – The Carpenters
• Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head – B.J. Thomas
• I Love a Rainy Night – Eddie Rabbitt
• You Can’t Hurry Love – Diana Ross & The Supremes
• My Girl – Temptations
• Stop! In the Name of Love – Diana Ross & The Supremes
• Can’t Smile Without You – Barry Manilow
• The Christmas Song – Nat King Cole