on a road trip with my dad. he’s blasting 5sos’s Entire Discography at insane levels and and singing every song word for word. Every Song. the rocks. kiss me kiss me. don’t stop. wildflower. voodoo doll. talk fast. not ok. she’s kinda hot. he knows them all. there are no skips. he’s drumming on the steering wheel.
he’s paused his singing long enough to read a sign that said “new traffic pattern.”
“what kind of traffic pattern do you think it’ll be?” he asked me. “plaid? argyle?”
tried to tell him we were passing the historic spot where the suspension infamously broke on ted nivinsons 2002 toyota tacoma during the rainforest cafe road trip and his response was to crank up the volume on youngblood
me: dad i don’t like the look of this truck
dad: well he’s probably hauling a bunch of helium
me: then why isn’t it floating
dad: haha very funny


















