Just now, I got in my press-fleet F150 2.7L EcoBoost to go pick up my kid from preschool, and this is what greets me. The bird, flipped right at me. The F150 telling me — in clear, confident pixels — that I should sit, and then, perhaps, spin. Well fuck you too, F150.

Sure, to the soft-minded this may just seem like a chance happening on a dash LCD’s fuel-economy graph, but I know better. I’m being flipped off by this bulky-ass aluminum box because it heard me disparaging large trucks and longing for the return of small trucks. I get it. Loud and clear.

Jerk.