Sunday Scribblings....Take a Deep Breath

Okay Ladies, you've officially inspired me to write for Sunday Scribblings
I seriously never thought I'd share stories about my mother, oh, my throat is constricting...This is an excerpt from a story wherein my mother and father were fighting and my mother jumped out of the moving vehicle. My father went back to fetch her:

The fight wasn’t finished with my parents struggling on the side of the road. After what seemed like months Mom actually got back in the car with Dad. Everyone tense, adults staring straight ahead, children not daring to make a peep. We had only driven a few feet when Mom spoke up. Oh shit, hands feeling around her head, her pockets. She must have dropped her sunglasses, could Dad go get them? Dutiful husband, compliant man, he did. He stopped and walked down the road to the ditch finding the place where she rolled, scouring the grass for the missing glasses. Big brown plastic ones.
Her next actions I watched in slow motion, couldn’t believe were actually happening. Eyes wide, glancing back at my father, my sister and I stared in silence as my mother, chuckling cruelly, slid her body across the wide vinyl expanse and into the driver’s seat. No, she was not. No, she couldn’t be. But she did. She stepped on the accelerator as a whimper rose from my throat. “Please, Mom, please stop.” My sister pleaded, but she would not be stopped, would not halt in her maniacal escape. She did not even have it in her to pacify her frightened daughters, even once we got home. “Your father is fine!” is all she would say. Even when he did not show up that night Mom had no tools with which to mollify us. What justification could she give for leaving my father out in the middle of nowhere, hours from home? What excuse could she fabricate?
He did return eventually, if only to pack his bags and quietly tell his daughters that he loved them. Even a man who believes in family found it hard to take such humiliation. I found out years later that he had hitch-hiked to a friend’s house. I also learned that he only ever came back for us,my sister and I, because he knew he would never win custody, not in the nineteen seventies, no matter how good a father he was.