People seem to forget you can still see them in their cars. You get the good, bad and interesting, as clear windows become iron-clad barriers. Cars create this protective bubble giving us the false impression of security, and the chance for some to let out their inner demons and divas.
Like the lady shaving her face this morning while in traffic. First, this poses very serious cutting hazards if she slams on the brakes or gets hit. Plus, ladies, if your face is that grizzly, take care of it at home. Hate to say it, but there are some mysteries a woman should keep. I’ve also seen countless people mining for gold (or whatever cute euphemism you want to use) and then disposing of it in even more countless disgusting ways.
But my favorite is the people who car dance. As previously stated, I will at any point jump, jive and wail. I don’t care if you see me, approve, or would kick me off any of the umpteenth reality talent shows. That’s why I always virtually hi-five the brave souls who jam out in their cars. Much like singing in the shower, I think cars have the magic ability to even turn The Robot into an encore-worthy performance.
The question becomes if you can safely drive and still rock the awesomeness. A few days ago a young girl gestured wildly in her car as if possessed by exorcism-inciting demons. But once I figured out she was dancing, I gave her a smile and wave. She turned redder than this pasty Irish-skinned girl at the beach with only an SPF 15. (Yeah, Dad, thanks for that super trait. I always loved looking like I was adopted in the summer when everyone else tanned and I still burned despite hours hiding under umbrellas.)
She then narrowly avoided hitting the stopped car in front of her and gave me a timid grin. Hopefully, she will learn the proper dancing to stopping ratio as she gets older. I’m really beginning to think car etiquette should be taught in driver’s ed. Or, maybe I’ll just create a warning sticker for windshields and teach the Safety Dance to all drivers.
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