He Hath Spoken

You may remember last year when I took a road trip with my father, my two dogs, and a 14′ canoe. Guess what I did recently (hold the canoe)!

Dad didn’t disappoint this year either. Before we even left, he was trying to carry hot coffee through the house, while the dogs made figure-eights around his legs. “Behave!” he told them. “This is the living room!”

Then we got on the road…

Dad, finger in the air: To tweet is to stupidify. I have spoken.

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Dad, trying to explain his recent orthodontic procedures: …pinion, implant… I’m searching for a one-syllable word. Like a good American.

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Dad, as a car passed by with “Just Married” painted in the rear window: Idiots.

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Dad, gesturing at a bunch of idle construction equipment, as we drove through a downpour: Why aren’t these guys working?

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Dad, post-Taco Bell: …Mexican-type reverberations up through my solar plexus.

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Dad, at a freeway dragonfly: You corrupt, suntanned, white-Mercedes, lane-skipping…!

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Dad, in Middleborough, Massachusetts: This is “The Cranberry Capital of the World”, it says. Not “Southern New England’s Garbage Dump”.

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Dad, to a crotch rocket rider who nearly tagged my fender: You’re a statistic waiting to happen, you little twat!