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Back in My Day

by Michael D. Brooks

“People are a bunch of dimwits.”

“Sure they are, Pop.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you, Pop.”

“No you don’t.”

“Look, Pop—”

“You think I’m some lunatic.”

“You said that, not me.”

“You know I’m right.”

“What? About you being a lunatic?”

“Very funny, wise guy. You know what I mean.”

“Why don't you explain it to me, Pop.”

“People are getting smarter and dumber. Why back in my day—”

“Oh, brother. Here it comes.”

“What'd I teach you about interrupting your elders?”

“Sorry, Pop. Please continue.”

“Back in my day you didn’t have to pass laws to get people to do smart things that were common sense.”


“Like passing laws telling people to stop... What do you call it when people use them cell phones without talking on them?”

“Text messaging.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“What about it, Pop?”

“Any idiot knows you can’t do that text thing and drive at the same time.”


“The people who do that are dimwits. You don’t do that text thing while you’re driving, do you?”

“No, Pop.”

“Good. I don’t want to be going to your funeral before you go to mine. Anyway — what was I saying?”

“You were saying people are dimwits.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. They’re dimwits because people done forgot how to drive.”

“Here it comes.”

“Look, do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”

“Yeah, Pop. I want to hear what brilliant thing you have to say.”

“Wise guy. With them putting computers in cars and making them more modern, people expect cars to think and drive by themselves and keep them safe.”

“How do you figure?”

“They got them front, side, and rear air bags, and—”

“They don’t make rear air bags, Pop.”

“What'd I tell you about interrupting people?”

“My bad.”

“They got them cameras for seeing the rear, right?”


“Okay, so they got them, and they got that GSP thing.”



“GPS, Pop. GPS. It stands for Global Positioning Satellite.”

“I know what it stands for. That’s what I said.”

“Sorry, my bad.”

“Now where was I? Oh, yeah. And they got them crumple zones, tires that fix themselves, and cars that can talk.”


“So people think they're as snug as a bug in a rug when they drive.”

“Is there a point somewhere in there or did you forget to make one?”

“My point, wise guy, is that even with all that technology, people done forgot how to drive. That’s why there’s so much road rage.”

“Ah, the plot thickens. What happened today? Somebody run a stop sign again?”

“No, some dimwit didn’t put their blinkers on before they turned and cut me off. Probably thought the car would do it for them.”

“Did you give them the finger? Tell me you didn’t give them the finger.”

“No. I didn’t give them the finger, but I did give them a piece of my mind.”

“A few well-chosen, carelessly spoken words, I bet.”

“You better believe they were well-chosen. Colorful, too.”

“And you got the nerve to talk about road rage.”

“They're the ones who forgot their road courtesy.”

“Let me guess. They didn’t stick around to hear you tell them about it.”

“Nope. Dimwitted coward.”

“Lucky for you.”


“Nothing, Pop. Hey, how about we go get something to eat?”

“Your car?”

“Yeah, Pop.”

“Great. Can I watch you make it park itself again?”

“Sure, Pop.”

Copyright © 2009 by Michael D. Brooks

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