Hal opened the car door and slipped into the passenger seat. Immediately his ears were assaulted by thumping pop music. Mason tapped out the rhythm on the steering wheel.
“Nothing like awesome tunes for a road trip, eh?” asked Mason.
“Absolutely,” replied. Hal. “When are you gonna start playing it?”
Mason stared at his uncle in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that. This music is lit.”
“As long as you mean lit on fire. This is awful. Tell me this isn’t popular.,” said Hal.
“Yet another sign the apocalypse is upon us,” concluded Hal.
Mason rolled his eyes. “Lemme guess. You only like oldies.”
“Depends on what you mean by old.”
“Ancient. Beethoven and junk.”
Hal crossed his arms. “As a matter of fact, I do. Not to mention artists from the seventies and eighties.”
“That’s how old you’d have to be to listen to them,” scoffed Mason.
Hal scowled at his nephew. “At least my music has something to say. Not like today’s music. All they sing about are butts.”
“And you think my music has nothing to say,” laughed Mason.
“Know what’s wrong with today’s generation? They’re a bunch of hedonists,” said Hal.
“Know what’s wrong with everyone else? They think there’s something to live for other than fun,” countered Mason.
“There is. What about the future?” asked Hal.
Mason merged onto the highway and wove recklessly through traffic. “All that exists is the present. I live for now.”
Hal gripped the dashboard with white knuckles. “If you keep driving like this, that’s how long we’ll have left to live.”