I've noticed lately that even though I just had it washed a couple of weeks ago, my car is once again lacking its sparkle and shine. A part of me wonders if that's just a consequence of living in California. You know, a desert city right next to the ocean? Like, sand plus salt water equals brown car. I started noticing, however, that the dirt had a pattern: it only appeared on one side of the car. In the mornings, the humidity here rises, so it's very common to see cars' windows and windshields all dewy. But then there's my car. It's always got water droplets all over the passenger side of it, spanning its entire length.
I figured out one night that it was a result of where I had parked. Apparently, my roommate waters the lawn at fucking midnight. Which means that my car, given its proximity of being right alongside the lawn, got a nightly shower. Upon learning this, I changed tactics and parked on the other side of the yard. Only to find the other day that they run the sprinklers too.
So now I'm thinking I need to get the thing washed again, only this time I need to apply a nice thick layer of wax myself, in the hopes that my car might remain shiny and sexy. I used to not much care about the hip factor of my car, but now that it's always covered in dirt, I'm all self-conscious about it.
But then there was this moment yesterday when I was driving around town that made me realize that, filthy or not, my car is still awesome. I pulled up to a stoplight, and saw on the corner adjacent to me that a guy was outside holding up one of those gigantic signs advertising a business in the shopping center on his corner. Everyone I ever see holding those things always has some headphones on. A must, obviously, though it's probably more exciting than my class debates were today. Don't get me started; don't even get me started.
So the guy. With the headphones. Is standing there. Bopping his head in rhythm. Curiously, the same rhythm, beat for beat, to the one I'm car dancing to. A closer look shows me moving lips. Moving lips that match the movement of my own. (Moving to the words of this song.) He noticed my intense stare, and returned it, and seconds later, we realized we were both listening to the same bitchin' radio station. Thumbs up, he signals. Rock on, dude. And suddenly everything is cool again.