My parents thought they were so clever, gifting me a car with a hidden dash cam to keep tabs on my every move. Little did they know, I was about to turn their surveillance into a hilarious prank that would teach them a valuable lesson about trust and privacy.
I have a helicopter mom and a dad who’s just happy to go along with whatever she says. It’s been this way my whole life: every move scrutinized and every decision questioned.
Now, at 26, I should have a bit more freedom, right? When they told me they were gifting me their old car since they got a new one, I thought maybe, just maybe, they were finally starting to trust me.
I was ecstatic!
“Surprise!” my mom squealed as she handed me the keys. “We wanted to make sure you’re safe on the road with a sensible car.”
My dad just stood there, smiling and nodding.
I was so grateful, even when we had to arrange a bunch of paperwork for the registration and insurance so that the car would be in my name officially.
It was a hassle, but I thought it was so worth it as I slid into the driver’s seat for the first time after all the legalities were done.
My mother had a big smile on her face, and my dad was his quiet, simple self as they watched me arrange the seat, start the engine, and put on my seat belt.
I was so ready to take my “new” car for a spin when something caught my eye.
It was a weird little bulge on the dash. I leaned in for a closer look and my heart sank. It was a dash cam. And not just any dash cam, but one of those sneaky hidden ones.
I could practically hear my mom’s voice in my head if I dared to complain about it: “It’s for your good, honey.”
So, I acted like I hadn’t seen it, but inside, I was fuming.
I gulped, waved my parents goodbye, and drove off straight to my apartment.
That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being violated.
How could they do this to me?
After fuming in bed for some time and doom-scrolling on TikTok, I finally came up with a plan: if they wanted to spy on me, I would give them a show they wouldn’t forget.
So, although it was 3 a.m., I called my best friend, Alex.
“Dude, you won’t believe what my parents did,” I said as soon as he picked up.
“What now?” he asked, already sighing. He knew the drill with my folks.
I told him about the car and the hidden dash cam.
“That’s insane!” he exclaimed. “But you know your mom, always trying to protect you from the big bad world.”
“Yeah, well, I’m done with it,” I said. “I’m a grown woman! I’m going to teach them a lesson about trust and privacy.”
“Oh, this I’ve got to hear,” Alex said, and I could almost see him rubbing his hands like a villain.
So, I laid out my plan, and he was all in, although he had several suggestions of his own that would be perfect.
The following afternoon, I picked up Alex, and we headed out in my “new” car. I tried my best not to look at the dashcam to avoid giving anything away.
But I was smirking the entire time Alex and I drove to our first destination: Inky’s Tattoos. This was going to be fun because, among the tattoo parlors in our town, this one had a horrible reputation.
I.e.: hygiene issues and questionable clients.
I parked the car, and Alex and I skipped inside. The walls were plastered with designs I would never actually consider: skulls, dragons, and scantily clad women.
They were perfect for the role I was about to play.
“Hey, man, we’re looking to get some ink,” I said to the heavily tattooed guy behind the counter. He grunted in response, his eyes scanning us up and down.
“You?” he frowned, knowing I didn’t fit the part, so I had to tell him the truth: we wanted temporary tattoos. After chuckling a bit, he told us to pick our poison and sat us down.
I chose a giant skull with flames for my bicep, a snake wrapped around a dagger for my forearm, and a barbed wire band around my ankle.
Alex opted for a full sleeve of tribal symbols, which I knew would send my mom into a tizzy.
Luckily, she didn’t know enough about this industry to understand that these intricate designs would take days if they were permanent tattoos.
These were done quickly, but we told the artist to take his time.
The temporary designs looked surprisingly realistic. We paid the artist and left, making sure to display our tattoos in front of my car without being too obvious.
Our next stop was the local tobacco shop.
We walked in and walked around for a while. The cashier eyed us suspiciously because we weren’t grabbing anything and asked, “Are you going to buy something?”
“Just this,” I said, taking a handful of candy cigars.
Neither Alex nor I smoked nor used anything sold in here, but we had to spend some time in here for the footage to be believable.
So, we paid and exited the store. We made sure “to smoke” our fake cigars right in front of the car to add to the show.
But we weren’t done.
When night fell, Alex and I drove towards the city center, straight to “Club Euphoria,” another place that would send my mother into hysterics.
“This is it,” I said to Alex. “The pièce de résistance.”
“Showtime!” he replied, grinning evilly.
We got out of the car, making sure the dash cam had a clear view of the club’s entrance and went inside. We talked to the staff, and they made an exception, letting us out of the club through a side door that led to an alleyway.
We walked to the nearest street, called an Uber, and headed off, leaving my car at the same spot, so my mom would think we were partying all night.
The Uber dropped off Alex at his house and drove on to take me home.
Our plan was complete, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Mom and Dad checked the footage.
The next morning, I was barely waking up when I heard it. My mom was pounding and yelling at my door frantically.
I only had a second to wonder who had let her into the apartment building. It must have been a neighbor.
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?!” Mom screamed as soon as I opened the door.
I suppressed the urge to chuckle and instead invited her inside. “Mom, before you say anything more, let me explain.”
She didn’t listen and went into a rant, but I kept quiet, guiding her to the couch.
When I also sat, I truly saw her disheveled state: gesticulating with her shaky hands, bags under her eyes, and hair in disarray as if she had pulled it.
Perhaps I did go too far.
But that was done. So, I pulled out my phone and started playing the behind-the-scenes footage Alex and I had captured. She immediately went quiet.
I had recorded what truly happened inside these places for this very moment.
Mom’s eyes widened in disbelief as she watched all my videos.
The footage showed us laughing and joking in the tattoo parlor, revealing our fake tattoos.
It showed us giggling as we walked around the tobacco store and “smoked” the candy cigars.
Finally, another video showed us going into the Uber after leaving the nightclub through a side door.
“See, Mom? Nothing happened,” I said calmly, once the last video had finished. “It was all a setup. I saw the dash cam, and I knew you guys would have access to it through your phones. I’m 26 years old. Spying on me isn’t the answer. It isn’t protecting me.”
My mom stared at me, breathing hard and looking stumped. Her features were frozen for a long time before her face crumbled, and she covered it with her hands.
“I’m so sorry. I just worry about you so much,” she mumbled, sobbing.
I moved closer and patted her back comfortingly.
After around an hour, she composed herself and looked at me with a new expression.
“You’re right,” she said, sniffling. “I’ve been so focused on protecting you that I forgot to trust you. I’m sorry for invading your privacy.”
I nodded, exhaling in relief.
Another knock came, but it was softer. I knew it would be Dad, so I opened it and smiled. His grin was… rueful and apologetic. He must have been eavesdropping.
“I also want to apologize,” he said, shrugging. “We should have trusted you more. We’ll remove the dash cam, and we promise not to invade your privacy again.”
I laughed brightly and loudly, especially because I knew they would find other ways to keep protecting me in the future.
I would always be their child, after all.
But as an adult, I needed enough privacy to make my own life. So, although I could’ve given them a heart attack, I don’t regret this lesson I taught them.
What do you think? Was it too much?
