Yesterday I pulled up behind a silver car waiting at a stoplight. There was another white car to my right, double parked with the blinkers on. Maybe a foot from my passenger side door. Three cars packed together like a Tetris L.
An older, burly dude was walking slowly down the sidewalk, eyeing the parked white car. I assumed it to be his. I also knew there was no way in hell he’d be able to open his driver’s side door. There wasn’t any room with his double park for him to get in.
I started to feel tense. Totally ready for the stoplight to turn green so this whole situation would go away. I like stuff to go away.
I was driving to work this morning as I do. A black Honda Civic sports car pulled up alongside me, a lady about 10 years older than me behind the wheel. When we got to the next stop light she continued to inch her Honda closer and closer toward the intersection.
I said to myself, “You wanna race? I’ll give you a race. I’ve got a 1999 V6 that runs good on regular gas.”
I didn’t have my racing gloves with me but that didn’t matter. And then I couldn’t go full balls when the Christmas lights lit up anyway. With the other cars in front of us and all.
So then as we barreled north, she in her black car and me in my black truck, she continued to apply horsepower. As did I. As the traffic would allow.
But then I had thought that wasn’t my own. Here’s this little older in a sports car, probably having the time of her life. Roaring around like Thelma and Louise and then here I am wanting to take that away from her, not even attempting to be my best self.