I think earlier I had a segue from this to the Tiburon incident. Whatever it was, I've forgotten.
Some time last summer. That's not long ago, is it? Not too long? With my windows down cruising through Cherry Hill traffic, from the right I hear Turn the Page. Not the Metallica version, the only one I'm accustomed to, but the original. I start peering into the car, at it's driver, wondering about her. (It seems petty and selfish, in retrospect, to be curious about someone simply because they play a song I like.) The sound is so clear I assume it's a cd as opposed to the radio. The car, a curvy, deep blue Tiburon. So unlike the matte grey straight lines of my vehicle. Crowded lanes keep us close as I hit the scan button on my radio, and the song comes on. Of course, one of the classic rock stations. I raise my windows as I turn it up, just slightly, to avoid seeming invasive of the other driver's privacy. Not wanting them to think I'm trying to communicate. Really, why would I? But maybe some other me would.. I don't know. Shyly I close my car up, still looking, still wondering.
I would love to own that pickup truck.