Vehicle Dance

A long work week ended late last Friday with the Road Gods bestowing upon us weary car dwellers one final gift in the form of a large somnolent traffic jam – one that seemed not to have a beginning or end – making we wonder if this might be the beginning of planetary gridlock. So there I am slumped behind the wheel, assuming the aspect of a vehicular zombie shambling along unsteadily, slack jawed yet strangely determined.

In such circumstances there is not much to do except glance around at your fellow zombies and perhaps gain hope from shared experience, miserable though it may be. The guy next to me appeared to have his steering wheel clasped in a death grip and had taken on the fierce aspect of a Norse god threatening to release the Kraken. That baby could clear out some of these cars I bet.

To my left a couple was engaged in an intense argument full of scowling faces, head shakes and finger wagging. You may go entire months without seeing fingers actually wag but there they were wagging away like nobody’s business, scoring argumentative points like Michael Jordan in his prime.

In front of me was one of those mondo truck things being driven by what must have been a very small person because their head was not visible above the seat. I imagine this person reaching *up* to grasp the wheel with tiny hands. This may be an example of the Law of Conservation of Size, which means somewhere a football player is driving a moped. Thus doth the universe smile.

I glance behind me and see a young woman driver experiencing what can only be described as complete musical euphoria. Sometimes you can catch people singing along with the radio or CD, but with this young woman we are talking gittin’ down, rockin’ out, cookin’ with gas. I mean if her doors weren’t closed she would have flung herself completely out of her car, scattering rainbow-colored dance molecules all over the road. She was butt-dancin’, people! Look out! Watching her perform was like watching Glee with the sound off.

Of course I am having my little fun with it, but in truth you could not watch her singular performance and not feel a little bit better regardless of the coefficient of automotive stasis. In my mind I see her cruising along, happily getting ready for the weekend when HER song came on the radio; you know, the one that played the night she met her soul mate and talked until the sun came up and they went out for coffee and held hands across the table. The one that played when her best friend beat cancer. The one that played when she got into the college she wanted. The one that played when her daughter was born and her dad came to see her for the first time in all those years; and he had hope in his eyes.

Yeah, THAT song.