We hopped in the Chevy HHR to a greeting from the driver, a man in his 60s or 70s.
“Would you like some music?” he asked as he pulled away from our place.
“Sure, we like everything,” I offered.
He pulled over to the side, turned on some music, then headed down the road again.
Pulling over to use his phone, very responsible, I thought to myself.
Next he hit the button to start GPSing the route, which turned off the music. Oh well.
He was a heavy talker, which I’m not bothered by. I’ve been a driver, I know how it goes.
As he chatted away, he casually missed our highway exit toward the airport.
“Oops, that was our exit,” I said, too late. Continue reading