mother , who disapproved of the beatles , hunched over the big chevy steering wheel , a goofy wheel of fortune if ever one existed , the pleated skirt of her cotton paisley dress nearly reaching the floorboards , both feet on the pedals ( and this was always the way she drove automatics later ) still searching everywhere for her lost daughter , studying the hysterical singing teens packing the sidewalks and the spaces between parked cars in every direction .