Another boring day on the way to the office. Frank is used to the same mundane traffic every day and tugboats his way through it like a mechanism, a chore. He does it daily and it is nothing else but that to him, a chore.
Day for day he ridicules those who try to pass him on the left, only to be slowed down by the rest of the herd. It was one of the perks of the day, boring as they may be.
It was a Friday when Frank had a meeting, after that meeting there would be a business lunch and that would allow him to stretch time with less-stressful things before going home. He decided to go on the left lane to pass the other cars for once, after all he didn’t want to come too late. He sped along and passed the other cars and he was surprised about the distance he made up. Alas, he soon had to take a right to get his exit, so he slowed down and tried to get out, but the other cars wouldn’t let him. He honked and he cursed, but it wouldn’t budge. The morning traffic came to a halt.
His futile attempts to get in were foiled by other men. After a while he began to get nervous, after all the meeting was in a mere 10 minutes and the cars had not moved one bit. He called his employer quickly to avise him of the mishap. The employer duly noted it and postponed the meeting due to the circumstances. Relieved Frank got back into his car.
Eventually the traffic jam began to move again and Frank managed to get into the right lane. He budged and honked his way through but eventually made it. In his haste he decided to take the standby lane which is only for emergency services or if you have broken down with your car. He slowly approaches, double checks his mirrors and then gets onto the standby lane.
Sadly, there happened to be a truck in front of him, parked on the standby lane. It is stationary and is exchanging a wheel. Thankfully Frank wasn’t at a high speed, so he managed to brake just in time. He cursed and signalled to exit the standby lane onto the lane to the left of him, too late however. Far too late for anything anyway, for another truck had gotten onto the standby lane. The driver of the truck approaching is coming at a high speed, for he is reading text messages rather than paying attention.
As such, the truck driver plows into Frank’s car, with him inside it. A wreck of metal and blood remains and the screeching of the tires from the truck are heard from afar. The truck driver died, as did Frank.
