The three girls were still chattering in the back seat when Dad called. On the beltway, traffic slowed, stopped, and surrendered to inertia. Dudes volleyed footballs between station wagons. A band of wandering gypsies built makeshift hovels from the roof of an abandoned Prius; tires were piled and set alight for warmth. Slipping Mom’s Expedition behind a ransacked Hostess truck, I nearly missed the phone call: my ring tone the ultimate loser in a three-way battle between the radio and the three preteens in the backseat.
“Hey bud,” Dad chimed over the speaker. “How ya doing?”
“We just finished discussing the niceties of shaving our legs.” Continue reading