Distraction

The urge to rush, going way over the suburban sprawl MPH was tempting to Rog. He hated being late, and this would be one more opportunity for his mother to nag him about getting cell phone. A cell phone only meant that he would be on more of a leash by the women in his life. Well, the only who be a problem would be Joan. She would probably call him ten times in ten minutes with cute catch phrases of "do you hear me now?" His mother would call to invite him to dinner or to see how he was doing, and that would be more than fine. Penny probably would not call him. She hated the micro-chipped little beasts.

Okay, so he was late. What would he say to his mother? Should he tell her he had started out on an errand to buy Joan an engagement ring, got depressed, and thought about drinking his sorrow away (With what? His fake id? Yeah, sure that would have worked.). then he could tell her how he had contemplated becoming a male escort. The topper would be the decision to join the military. What would he say about that? He almost suspected his mother would encourage the male escort idea as opposed to the military.

So engrossed in formulating a plan of dealing with this that he was barely paying any attention to the road. It had flown by, landscapes blurring unnoticed as the inner-auto-pilot took over. Like an automaton, he signaled the overly familiar turns, stopped at various intersections, and slowed down for the annoying school zones.

It happened suddenly like they, those ambiguous thems, say it happens. One moment the world is fine and your driving along your chosen road, and bam, something catches you off guard and you are thrown off course. This was assuming you were on course to begin with. One minute there was nothing but open highway; the next minute there was a blur, something dark and alien moved off the side of the road and into oncoming traffic. What the heck was that, he thought, as he most likely verbalized the moment with an "oh..." (You know the word). In the slowest blink of an eye, Rog hit his breaks and swerved into the next lane of traffic. This is when the tailspin begun and control was something no longer within his realm. He watched as the direction became a disorganized swirl. For an instant he tried to remember if there was any oncoming traffic, knowing within his heart, that there was. He braced himself for the impact.