Grampaw
I am westbound on Eastern Boulevard, the route 5&20 takes past Weggers.
Ahead is a beige-metallic Cadillac, an FWD Caddy powered by a Northstar V8. —Probably pushin’ 5,000 pounds, if not over.
The driver’s alone, except for a slobbering white Labrador, poking his head out the side-window.
The Caddy is wondering all over the road. First he jukes to the left, changing lanes unsignaled, wedging into moving traffic.
PRAAMMMMMP! “Why doncha look where yer goin’?” the driver of a giant dark-green F150 shouts. He had to hit his brakes.
Grampaw then drifts to the right across the lane dividing-line — unsignaled of course — and then decides to suddenly change lanes to the right.
More braking and horn-blowing.
Thankfully all this is about 100 yards in front of me.
But close enough to turn on my wipers. That dog is drooling.
I continue to lay back; never know what Grampaw will do next.
He seems blithely oblivious to surrounding traffic, except the car in front of him is slowing for a traffic-light.
WOOPS! Another sudden unsignaled lane-change. Grampaw drifts left, and then lunges left to avoid the slowing car ahead.
More braking and horn-blowing.
“Turn up your hearing-aide, Grampaw!”
Sorry guys, no Dubya sticker — sure drove like a Dubya-supporter.
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