In Cars…
What is it about being in a car that makes drivers act differently than they might outside that little world that seems to make them feel so secure? People do weird and sometimes incredibly stupid things when they’re in their cars. They act weird. They pick their noses, they shout mindlessly hateful things at other drivers despite the fact that no one is having to endure the tirade but the other people helplessly trapped in the car with the shouter. They make angry faces and/or rude gestures at other drivers as they pass or at stop lights, willfully cut each other off and ride bumpers in an intellectual (laying the sarcasm on pretty thick here) attempt to force the person in front of them to speed up, forgetting that there are those of us who might feel a sudden urge to check our brakes.
I’ll readily admit that I’m not entirely immune to the insanity. I talk to the driver of the car in front of me when he or she irritates me, which is far easier to do when I’m behind the wheel than at any other time. I might say something like, “Perhaps if you got off the phone you might have seen me and avoided nearly swerving into my lane,” or offering up an annoyed, “It’s the pedal on the right,” to someone who, for whatever reason, just can’t seem to get going. I’m not above looking at another driver as I pass into a turning lane to see whether he looks as constipated as I feel sure he must be.
These are relatively innocuous goings on in a typical outing but there have been a few incidents over the years that have left indelible images in my mind. I remember once, at a stop light, I glanced out of my passenger side window at the man in the truck next to me and found myself doing a double take. He was in a white delivery truck of some sort, one of those where the window is extended lower than in other vehicles (possibly so we ladies can observe and admire just how hairy a man’s legs can be when they have shorts on). I actually failed to notice his legs at all, not because I’m as unobservant as can be – I am – but because his entire upper body was pressed against the window and he was looking at me and licking the glass.
Mind you, I was stuck there until the light turned green and I don’t know if he possibly had some affliction, some rare form of tourettes I’d never seen, or if he was one of those poor, sad individuals that find the bravado they never should in their car to “approach” a woman they find attractive. What did I do? Why, fall back on my standard defense mechanism, of course. I got the giggles.
If you know me at all, you know what this entails. Some of you don’t, so I will expound: When I get the dreaded giggles, nothing can make me stop until the giggles have run their proper course. Because of my power of imagination, whatever I have seen that has stricken me so, replays itself over and over in my head and each time is funnier than the last. Tears will begin rolling down my cheeks and if there is anyone near me, the giggles go viral because whatever the nature of my laugh is, it seems to inspire the same in anyone in my presence at this time. This refuels the giggles. Some of my family members have learned to recognize it when it happens and one of them will invariably say, “This is gonna take a while”, as they grin and settle in to enjoy my helplessness.
So, whatever his reaction to my fits of helpless laughter were, I never saw because when the light turned green I raced away. I hope he was trying to be funny, I really do, because if not, he may be scarred for life. Though in hindsight, that might not be a bad thing. No one else will have to endure his version of a compliment for a very long time.
Another time, I saw a man in a very nice car, wearing an expensive looking business suit, with his left index finger jammed so far up his nose I had to assume he thought he could actually, physically access his frontal lobe. He glanced over, noticed that I had noticed and probably due to the shocked look on my face, turned a sinister shade of red and continued to dig. I didn’t blame him. I mean, after all, he was on a mission. His private moment shouldn’t have been interrupted, intentional or no and he was rebelling with all his executive might.
I’m sure anyone reading this has had at least one of their own memorable yet silent exchange with another driver. I, being the curious kitty that I am, would very much enjoy any you, dear reader, might have to share. Don’t be shy! I love a good laugh. I might even get the giggles!
