I was in one of the twin left-turn lanes from El Camino to
Lawrence Parkway yesterday, and could not help but notice that the car next to
me was composed mostly of stereo speakers, and there was something very lively
on. But it was kind of a killer beat, so I let my inner spirit run free (as
much as it can when you’re strapped in completely with your seat harness, which
I never go anywhere without using, in case the CHP is reading this).
By which I mean I was car-boogying, head-bopping and hand
jiving like nobody’s business. Look—it’s a long wait for the left-turn arrow at
that intersection; I could have performed the second act of Swan Lake before we had to move. But I
sadly did not have a tutu with me.
I didn’t bother to look for anyone who might be watching
me; traffic on that part of El Camino runs about 45 MPH. The only person whose vehicle wasn’t moving was next to me, in the very
loud car.
And what made me laugh and laugh was that—as cranked-up
as he had the volume, and as irresistible as that beat was—this guy was as
still as one of the guards at Buckingham Palace. I mean, not one millimeter of
movement. It was like he was completely frozen.
He didn’t even look around to see who was laughing like a
maniac.
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