Not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty good at car karaoke. While most of the time I’m listening to sports talk radio, occasionally I’ll bust out with some soul-bearing version of whatever song is on the radio like a delusional diva taking the stage.
In these moments, I often wonder why I never look into another driver’s car and see them doing the same exact thing. It would delight me to glace over at a red light and witness a skinny Polish girl with no ass calling out to “all the single ladies” a la Beyonce.
This happens every once in awhile and I feel an immediate bond with the vehicular vocalist, but more often than not the only thing I witness is awkward eye contact with the driver or a couple in the midst of a fight.
While I can’t hear what the couple is saying, I feel it’s safe to assume that if they’re in the car together for any amount of time, it has probably involved one or more of the following conversations.
Her: I’m cold. Turn off the air.
Him: We’re driving on the surface of the sun. How in the world are you cold?
Her: Because you have the air blasting on level two. It’s practically arctic in here.
Him: (Turns it down to level one)
Her: (Glares, sighs and directs all vents in his direction.)
Five minutes later…
Her: I’m hot. Turn on the air.
Him: We don’t need the map. They said just to follow them there, so keep your eyes on their car up ahead.
Her: I’m setting the GPS anyway.
Him: Oh crap. That car just completely stopped to pull into that driveway as if the occupants are so delicate any jarring will cause complete destruction. Now I can’t see their car.
Her: They’re still up there. Just speed up.
Him: I’m going the speed limit, but they keep weaving in and out of that lane. Where did your sister learn to drive?
Her: Oh, so it’s her fault you can’t just follow her and go the speed limit? (Turns the air conditioning completely off and changes the station to one that she likes.)
Him: Do you want to drive? (Rolls down the window.)
Her: The GPS is “recalculating.” I suggest you do the same thing. Look! They just turned right! Put on your blinker and merge!
Him: I’m merging. I’m merging. See? We’re right behind them. I can even read her bumper sticker. WWJD? He would drive the freaking speed limit.
Him: Migrate bug…
Her: What are you mumbling about? Migrating bugs? Are you drunk?
Him: That personalized license plate in front of us. What do you think it means?
Her: What? MY GR8 BUG? It’s a VW Beetle, you idiot. As in a “bug,” not migrating insects.
Him: I guess that makes more sense.
Her: Thank god we’re almost there. I’m cold.
Him: (Turns the radio up and changes the station)
Her: There’s a spot right there. Why didn’t you park right there?
Him: Because I was already past it when I saw it and there’s someone behind us.
Her: You can’t back up? Wait. There’s one on the other side. Hurry! Go grab it!
Him: Do you want me to drop you off so I can park?
Her: No, I want you to park the damn car instead of circling around the lot!
Him: I see it, but there’s a car that just pulled through the spot. Who the hell pulls through a parking spot?
Her: Hurry and swing back to the other side and snag the spot they pulled through!
Him: I’m dropping you off. Get out.
Her: Hold on. Look at that car next to us. Check her out.
Him: Wow. That woman is really into that song. Roll down your window and see what it is.
Her: I think she’s singing Beyonce…
Like the blog? Buy the NEW 5-star rated book!