Thoughts at a Toll Booth on I-76

I’m at the end of my route on I-76. Finally. I’m waiting to pay another fucking toll. Shit, this is expensive. I look into my rear view mirror and I see a big SUV behind me. I see a couple. The woman is driving, and the husband sits  in the passenger seat. She is bitching up a storm at him. She looks like an aging Jersey Girl. He looks like a Guido. He starts bitching back. I see there are kids in the back seat of the Audi SUV. I think to myself, STFU with the screaming and posturing in front of your kids. WTF???

The wife keeps screaming and waving her arms everywhere. The husband looks like he wants to cut and run, the fuck away from her. Preferably down the exit ramp we just passed. I wonder if she knows how miserable she makes him. I seriously don’t think she would care though. She probably feels like he stole her youth. Her life. Her passion. He looks out the passenger side window. She stops bitching, leans her elbow on the driver side door and leans her head into her hand. Husband has the toll ticket in his hand and hands it off to her. She takes it, not even looking at him.

They drive an expensive vehicle. Her hands are adorned with fancy rings, but material possessions won’t keep you warm at night. Unless of course it’s a blanket. And even then it doesn’t whisper they love you in the night. It doesn’t cuddle in close and make you feel safe. It is only an expensive blanket. Such is the life of those with material possessions and no love.

It’s all a guess of course. Every picture tells a story. Even a mental picture seen through my eyes and my rear view mirror, at a toll booth on I-76.

Advertisements