ACCIDENT!
We were in New Jersey traffic and had been for the last hour and a half. Despite the frustration of a five-hour drive (which should have been three), we were in good spirits, singing along to the 60's station. My hands were in the air and my eyes were closed as Aretha Franklin belted "R-E-S-P-E-C-T!" I opened my eyes to see my dad pick up his phone. His foot was off of the brake, so the car inched forward. Suddenly the brakes lights of the car in front of us caught my attention. I didn't know how long they had been on, but I screamed. My dad looked up and immediately hit the breaks. It was too late. We had hit the car in front of us and now had to stop in the middle lane of I-95.
The man in the other car got out, a bulky Italian guy, clearly very angry.
"What the (explicit) are you (explicit) doing?"
"I was talking to my daughter."
"What the (explicit), man?"
"Sorry."
I had never seen my dad so passive, but that was his way of diffusing the man's anger. Luckily both cars pulled away with barely a scratch, but my dad has now learned to never text while driving.
The man in the other car got out, a bulky Italian guy, clearly very angry.
"What the (explicit) are you (explicit) doing?"
"I was talking to my daughter."
"What the (explicit), man?"
"Sorry."
I had never seen my dad so passive, but that was his way of diffusing the man's anger. Luckily both cars pulled away with barely a scratch, but my dad has now learned to never text while driving.
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