Sittin in the car car….(tf)
I’ve got young kids, so I spend a lot of time taking them to and fro. School. Practice . Games. The movies. Friend’s houses. Birthday parties. When picking up, there’s a lot of waiting time. Just sitting in the car…lingering until they appear. I’m known to have the patience of a wounded animal, but I never mind these times. Strange.
It’s quiet though…and you get to view the world from a safe place. I become fascinated by the actions of people around me. All have stories. I wonder what they are?
That lady in the next car. She’s on her cell phone. Very animated. Who’s she talking to? Is she mad? Or is hyperactivity normal for her? What’s her story? Is she missing something she thinks is more important? Anxious to get to the bar? I bet her husband or boyfriend has thick skin. Maybe she has both and she’s talking about one to the other. That would explain why she resembles a geyser in full bloom.
That guy in the pick-up across the street. Confederate flag sticker on his bumper. Best not to cut off a guy with a confederate flag sticker on his bumper. Mental note made in case we both leave at the same time. Guys in pick-up trucks never talk on cell phones, so I see him working the radio hard. He’s got a cap on. Can’t see exactly, but I’m assuming John Deere. Cliche maybe, but then he is in a pick-up truck with a confederate flag sticker on his bumper. I could go out on a limb and say he probably owns a few guns too. Perhaps of the republican persuasion? Hmm. Not sure why these guys always drive pick-ups. They never seem to be hauling anything. Still, you meet these guys and almost to a man they’re gentle souls. Maybe rough around the edges, but who said edges needed to be rounded off?
Someone just pulled up next to me. A mom for sure. Driving a mom car. I forget what they’re called, but when they pull up next to me they tower over my little red 4-door. I bet her car is spotless too. I’ve got soda cans and Dorito bags all over the floor. Oh look, here’s a spoon. Not plastic either. A real live spoon. I bet she doesn’t have a real live spoon on the floor of her car. I have no idea why a real live spoon is on the floor of my car, but that’s not the point. I’m not worried about it, which makes me suddenly feel like an excellent parent. Perspective and all that. Gotta have it.
Wow, look at that lady crossing the street. Way too many pizzas in her past. And then to top it off with stretch pants? Wrong on way so many levels. It’s not nice to judge people by their looks alone but when you’ve got time to kill and you’re sitting in your car, it’s normal. We’re all judge, jury, and executioner during such down times.
There goes a teen with the windows open, blasting hip-hop. I feel old when volume makes me cringe, mostly because I listen to music so loud that by now my ears largely exist only to balance my face. I like guitar-based rock and roll though. Never got into hip hop, and when cars literally bounce down the street from sampled bass lines, I get crotchety. Still, I’ll never complain. Except in here of course.
Cars whipping by. Driving so fast. Everybody in such a hurry to get…where exactly? All traffic slows to a crawl eventually. How many times have you been passed by some idiot going 100 miles per hour only to meet up with him again 10 minutes later….looking like he’s gonna have a baby?
When you’re parked and waiting….you really notice how lead footed people are. How impatient. Odd that the only time I’m not impatient is when I’m in a car. Moving or sitting still. Too many things to see. Too many images to conjure up. Too many stories.
Take me ridin in the car car….take me ridin in the car
Woody Guthrie sang that. He probably didn’t like to sit and look around as much as me, but he knew what a car was for. And it wasn’t to get all bothered about time.
Who doesn’t have time for a good story?
–Tom Flannery
Riding Both Rails 