Rudely Into the Night
I’d been stuck behind a rolling road block for a few miles. In the left lane were two cars, the drivers obviously oblivious to their surroundings. In the right was a semi, limited by the distance between stop lights and most likely a governor.
After the final light, in the short buffer between the end of the highway and the beginning of the interstate, I saw my opening.
Or so I thought.
Just as I was nearing my cruising speed of 80mph or so, he pulled out from the Lowe’s parking lot. To be fair, I was speeding. But to be fair, he was a piss poor judge of traffic flow.
As I pressed the brakes past gentle and into firm, I made an exasperated gesture. It wasn’t the bird, more of a “dammit” chop.
The Boomer must have known he had whipped out in front of me as he was apparently watching me in his rearview. He started flailing his arms about. Then, as he took his exit without using a blinker, he again started flapping and turned to stare me down.
Those are our antecedents. They cut us off, inhibit our progress, and get incensed at us if we have the temerity to notice. Old age was once encouraged to burn and rave at close of day, at the dying of the light. Now it burns and raves at young age, curses us for not feeding its vampiric arrogance, seeks to claim our light as its own.