Home > fuck > Road age

Road age

August 30th, 2018 Leave a comment Go to comments

“A new report from Volvo Car USA and the Harris Poll shows that distracted driving remains a problem for all drivers, but the generation that behaves this way the most is Generation X,” the radio personality intoned. “Stay safe out there everyone!” 48-year-old Patrick sat behind the wheel listening and seethed at the broadcast. It sounded like a Baby Boomer speaking, the old fuck, he thought. So busy blaming his children’s age group for their failings that he’d probably drive into a tree while hunting around the floorboard for his dentures if he were here.

The car on the highway in front of Patrick hit the brakes again, triggering an avalanche of expletives. “I bet you’re a goddamn Millennial!” he barked at the back of the driver’s head as he swerved onto the shoulder and sped up, passing the car on the right. Fuming, he nearly struck the guardrail before veering wildly back onto the road while fumbling for his coffee in the console. He lifted the cup to take a sip but the lid had been jarred loose and coffee spilled down his chest, which was only made worse by Patrick’s spasm as the first scalding drops hit his skin. “Fucking fuck!” he shouted and careened back onto the shoulder.

His phone began to buzz as he wrapped up his torrent of cursing and steered onto the highway once more. Now stuck behind another brake-happy driver, he pounded at the horn and looked at his phone. It was a Facetime call from his grandson Lucas, who had recently turned three, and Patrick answered. “Hi Papa!” shouted Lucas, his face against the screen and breath fogging the camera. “Well, hi there, Lu-” Patrick began before the call cut out. “Fucking Generation Z,” he muttered at the phone, “They’ll be lucky not to starve to death while they’re staring at their screens.” The car ahead of him braked again and he was forced back onto the shoulder to avoid a collision.

Speeding up once more to pull in front of the vehicle, he glanced over and noticed the woman driving appeared to be one hundred years old. God, at least. No wonder she’s such a bad driver, he thought. “Greatest generation, my ass!” he spit out the side of his mouth as he returned to the pavement. His phone intoned again, this time due to a text message. Picking up the device and scanning the message, he saw he was later for his appointment than he had thought. Swearing again as he spilled more coffee on his lap, Patrick glanced up and realized he was in the oncoming traffic lane and swerved right once more.

He didn’t have a chance to reflect upon his luck in avoiding a potential head-on accident though, because there was miraculously a rare gap in traffic on the highway before him now, where miles before him seemed clear. A miracle! He stomped on the gas pedal greedily, cranked up the radio and drummed the wheel with his fingers too hard. Fuck all those other idiots, he thought as he gazed out the side window at the mountains in the distance. “Fuck them,” he muttered aloud as he plowed into the construction cones.

Categories: fuck
  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.