by Critter

Created on: May 24, 2007

Most of these articles are going to be on things people shouldn't be doing while they're driving. You know, the woman yammering on her cell phone alternating between four and four hundred miles per hour on the rumble strips, the bald guy making sure his lipstick is just right while shifting lanes, that sort of thing.

Not me. I don't want to go on about the dude at the stoplight with the brain-rattling bass and hydraulics. Like I'm going to sit there at the light and say, "OH GOD YES! Your brain-rattling bass and hydraulics are SO HOT! I want to have your babies!" I'd rather write about something else.

I saw it just three hours ago. She was driving in the lane next to me on Bristol Pike in a really beat looking Chevy Celebrity. The car was trying its best to be blue, but time, wear and pollen had their own agendas. And there she was inside. She was a little bird-boned thing with cropped purple hair. I wondered for a moment if she was Bosnian. I've noticed it seems to be trendy among young Bosnians to wear their hair short and dye it purple.

Anyway, she was singing. I mean she was singing her little heart OUT. We coasted to a stop, and I became jealous for a moment. I was sitting there stuck at a traffic light in Levittown, and she was in Heaven itself.

Glowing, euphoric, purple and lovely.

I wanted to look like that. I wanted that wild abandon for myself. I was only around the corner from my apartment, and I suddenly didn't want to be there. I knew there were two deadlines waiting from me at home, but I had to do this one thing first. Disregarding the skyrocketing gas prices and an overdue oil change, I decided to drive aimlessly just to sing in the car.

On Bristol Pike towards 413 I blasted some Ulali. Hacha!

On 413 going up to 95 North I switched to Steven Sondheim's "Into the Woods". Nice, good, nice, kind, good nice...

On 95 North towards Trenton I popped in a Gjallarhorn CD, rolled down the windows and curdled my own blood with a darn good Swedish cattle call (if I do say so myself).

Ah, that felt better. I got off 95 North at the New Hope exit, turned around and went back to the apartment, fully rehabilitated from this morning's drudgery. I am somehow able to face my deadlines again.

Life is crammed and packed with lists of things we should never do. Well I'm adding something to the list of things we should do:

Let go your usual paranoid self-consciousness just long enough to really sing.

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