RJ cursed after leaving their neighborhood near the airport, through Conway, the next town up from the airport. They took 436 which the locals called Semoran, short for Seminole and Orange counties where 436 ran through but in doing so they hit every traffic light, passing strip shopping centers and either a CVS, Walgreens, a Publix, or a Wal-Mart on every corner.
“f*****g traffic. You would think on a Tuesday we wouldn’t be bumper to bumper. And what’s the f*****g deal with these lights? Can’t they time them right?”
“We’ll be fine,” Pad said. “You should’ve let me drive. You don’t have any patience with a machine that goes less than three hundred miles an hour, do you? Plus, we’re early to everything. My aunt will understand if we’re a few minutes late.”
RJ further harrumphed. “You sho
