webgottttfruits

'As I looked at the stains on the coral, I recalled some of the eloquent phrases of politicians and newsmen about how "gallant" it is for a man to "shed his blood for his country," and "to give his life's blood as sacrifice," and so on. The words seemed so ridiculous. Only the flies benefited.'

RONNIE GIBSON » The Crooked Kind, Radical Face.

Ralph Spina + IRL Ralph Spina's answers to the WW2 Veteran's Survey

Dick Winters: The designated driver who actually enjoys driving because it gives him something practical to do rather than just sitting on his hands. Checks the oil, tire pressure, route, weather, and backup route before leaving. Says “we’ll stop in about forty minutes” and somehow everyone believes him. Does not yell, but one calm “boys” from the front seat restores order instantly.

Lewis Nixon: Passenger princess, spiritually. Has sunglasses, coffee, and a playlist that is half excellent and half concerning. A disconcerting amount of Kesha (affectionate). Claims he can navigate due to being an intelligence officer, then gets distracted by a historical roadside marker, a liquor store, or his own cynicism. Will pay for gas because he forgot to contribute emotionally. Everyone allows him to be a passenger princess because the gas prices everyone else chokes up about he just pays without question ("That's good, right?").

Carwood Lipton: Packed the car correctly. Brought water, snacks, tissues, gum, Advil, phone chargers, wet wipes, and a trash bag. Knows who gets carsick, who needs caffeine, and who should absolutely not be allowed to control the aux cord. The only reason the trip survives.

Joe Liebgott: Hates traffic with the intensity of a personal vendetta. Has opinions about everyone’s driving, the route, the radio, the snacks, and the temperature. Secretly a very good co-driver, and will mutter "watch it" if someone is looking like they're going to do a questionable left hand turn into you.

George Luz: Aux cord terrorist. 10000 percent worse (better?) than Nixon's Kesha preference.. Road trip MVP and public menace. Does impressions of GPS voices, reads every weird billboard out loud, and starts bits that last 200 miles. Makes everyone sing along to songs they claim to hate. His playlist is essentially the Spotify generic "CHEESY FAMILY WEDDING HITS" playlist and he'd be screeching "ROCK THE BOAT, ROCK THE BOAT BABY" complete with hand actions by mile ninety. Carwood would quietly be popping more Advil than is medically suggested.

Babe Heffron: Overexcited for the first two hours, asleep for the next three. Keeps asking “are we there yet?” as a joke until it stops being a joke. Buys candy at every stop. Is tasked with taking photos out the window of things they see, and usually manages instead to get blurry countryside. Gets emotionally attached to a cow he sees in a field, and possibly says "cow" or "horse" every time there is indeed, a cow or horse.

Doc Roe: Quiet backseat presence. Has motion sickness meds, water, and one hand on the door handle because no one in this car is respecting biological limits and he is ready to eject at the earliest possible moment. Notices when someone goes pale before they say anything. At every stop: “Everybody walk around a minute.” Has feelings about compression socks that no one else shares, even Lipton.

Ron Speirs: Silent driver who offers freely to do the worst parts of the drives while Winters catches up on sleep. Terrifyingly efficient. Does not ask for directions because he already knows. Turns off GPS on principle and because it's "distracting." If he says “we’re stopping here,” you are stopping there. Somehow finds the cleanest washroom within the worst stretch of highway, and refuses to explain how.

Bill Guarnere: Complains about being cramped, complains about gas prices (despite not paying), complains about the music ("Who the HELL is Kesha?"), complains about the guy in the next lane ("Fucking asshole"). Is also having the time of his life. Buys the largest slushie available at a gas station, and then needs a washroom stop 31 minutes later.

Frank Perconte: Asks about the route constantly. Checks the ETA constantly. Distrusts the GPS, but cannot read a map. Has very specific complaints about legroom. Will point out every police car, gas station, and “weird noise” the car makes. Somehow still useful.

David Webster: Brought a book he will not read because everyone is too loud and it possibly makes him car sick but he'd never admit it. Makes one insightful comment about the landscape, that everyone mutually agrees with, then ruins it by making it sound like a thesis. Is secretly delighted by roadside Americana, but performs disdain for self-protection. His favourite part of the trip was pretending to be Jack Kerouac.

Don Malarkey: Brings wholesome snacks and a good attitude. Window-seat dreamer. Points out pretty scenery and weird town names. The person who suggests stopping at a scenic overlook and ends up making everyone glad they did.

Skip Muck: Road trip chaos gremlin, but sunny. Starts car games. Buys novelty sunglasses. Convinces Penkala they need matching gas station hats. Will eat a suspicious hot dog and say, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Alex Penkala: Enables Skip completely. Finds the weirdest item in every gas station and insists someone buy it. Sleeps in impossible positions. Wakes up and immediately asks if they missed anything.

Buck Compton: The guy who can actually drive for hours without getting weird about it. The only other person who is allowed to drive besides Spiers and Winters. Calm, athletic, good with navigation, probably wearing sunglasses. Will pull over for a view, but pretend it’s because “we needed gas anyway.”

Floyd Talbert: Flirts shamelessly with the waitress at the diner stop, the gas station cashier, and possibly the toll booth attendant. Looks good leaning against the car. Somehow smells normal, even nice, after six hours of driving, which everyone resents.

Shifty Powers: Quietly the best road trip companion. Does not complain. Notices deer and wildlife before anyone else. Knows which roadside fruit stand is worth stopping at and which are best to pass by. Has a peaceful little bag of snacks and no drama.

Johnny Martin: Does not want to stop unless absolutely necessary. Thinks everyone packed too much. Hates “scenic routes.” Will sit in silence for three hours and call that quality time. Emotionally exhausted at the end of it all, despite hardly saying a word. Wants to go immediately to sleep as soon as they arrive.