â€œThanks, asswipe,â€ he grumbled, clutching the steering wheel and scowling at the driver puttering and weaving ahead of him. â€œTake two lanes instead of one. Christ.â€
â€œShh,â€ his wife said, glancing toward the back seat. â€œThe twins will hear you.â€
â€œTheyâ€™ve got to learn sometime.â€
â€œLearn what? Impatience? Road rage?â€
â€œProper driving technique.â€
â€œThe worldâ€™s getting more complicated,â€ he said. â€œTechnology and the new math are changing everything. Never too young to learn.â€
â€œOr too old?â€
He passed the car. The driver yelled obscenities and flipped him the bird.
As he raised his hand to reciprocate, he saw his wife and kids staring at him. His finger had started its inexorable and well-practiced movement into position. The kids munched pretzels and watched him like a cartoon.
He grudgingly retracted his finger, clenched his teeth, and completed the pass. His wife turned on the DVD player. The Wiggles sang about some big red car.
â€œShowtime,â€ he muttered.