The Accident

After what seemed like hours of my explaining a pretty bad accident that made the local and national news to my Dad, I asked him: "Dad, what do you think?"
     "What do I think about what?"
     "About the accident."
     "What accident?"
     "The accident we were talking about."
     "I thought we were talking about dinner."
     "No, we were talking about the accident."
     "There was an accident?"
     "Yeah."
     "Did I ever tell you about that time I saw an accident in 1934? Or was it 1984?"
     "Dad, we were talking about the accident that made the news. You know, the speeding... the texting."
     "You got a text?"
     I explain the accident again to him, and, before he can ask me about his bank statement, I ask him, "What do you think happened, and how fast do you think the guy was going?"
     "Ahhh..." click, click, click "Ohhh..." smack, smack, smack "Hmmm..." mumble, mumble, mumble "Well, son, it's obvious. The guy was going the speed limit at 85 miles per hour. The 18-wheeler he crashed into was backing up at 65 miles per hour. That puts their speed on contact at 120 miles per hour. Do the math, son. Do the math."
     That's not quite how our conversation ended, but it makes about as much sense.
 
 

Raising My Father

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