Imagine this scene: the grandson is in the passenger seat, hands white-knuckled on the dashboard and eyes wide as frisbees. Meanwhile, grandpa sits confidently at the wheel, a grin plastered across his face. It's clear he hasn't realized that the speedometer is not a suggestion.
Just as the tension peaks, a squirrel darts across the road, immediately stealing grandpa's attention. The grandson's internal monologue? 'This is how I die.'
