A flawed cover-up

The driving goof ups of the fairer sex, as described by Mathew, invoke certain memories from the backyards of my mind. It’s nothing much but I decided to pen it down anyway. 

About 10 years back, (the times when my mom contributed generously to the exponential increase in the road accidents in this city), dad was out of town for a few days giving stern instructions to mom not to even think about touching the ‘just repaired’ car. But as they say, ladies will always be ladies; mom hit the pedal of the car minutes after dad was gone. As usual, she came back with scratches and patches on the car door; but this time she came back with some cheap paint and a brush along with the ‘bruised’ car. With meticulous perfection as that of a consummate artist, she dips the brush in paint, she strokes the brush on the door, she slides the brush along the edges. And after a while she leaves the garage with a contented smile. 

Dad comes back, glances at the car, raises his eyebrows, squints his eyes, looks at mom and says,

“There’s something bizarre about this door of the car.”

only to see mom’s faint smile (you didn’t have to go to Louvre museum to see the mysterious smile of Mona Lisa; you just had to look at mom’s face). The volume level of the TV reached its apogee as certain conversations transpired between mom and dad. Ya I know, conversation is a euphemism here.