"I think he started his Sylvester's a bit early" my father jokes, as the motorcycle swerves in front of us. "Stop," I want to scream. This is insanity. Three tons of steel under your command and a man on a motorcycle is so vulnerable. We continue blithely on, my father won't see how his jokes paralyze me.
8:45 PM Written December 31, 2013 on the highway edited January 6, 2014