The weather has been extremely nice lately, which means I’ve been driving all over town with the windows down. My long, luxurious locks (ha!) flap in the breeze, and I’m happy.
I don’t alter my car behavior just because my car windows are down. I continue to belt out songs at the top of my lungs and use random objects in the car as a microphone (a shoe will work in a pinch…not that I’d know…).
Then I stop at a stop sign and realize the person next to me has a front-row seat to my little concert. And, if I was singing a truly great number by Barbra Streisand, Joni Mitchell, or Dar Williams, I’d congratulate myself with providing a public service to neighboring cars.
However, my timing just isn’t that good.
I’m slightly ashamed to admit I was harmonizing with Ke$ha while stopped at a light last night. Part of me wanted to stop singing and try to explain myself. The other part of me wanted to finish the song. That part won.
My apologies to the person in the neighboring car — for my singing AND Ke$ha’s.