Out Of Tune

 

One would assume that anyone licensed to drive in the state of Michigan for over forty years would have a pretty solid grasp of the finer points of what you need to know to drive comfortably in this fine state

When it comes to me, however, that assumption would be wrong.

I get the basics. I totally understand that the roads here are always going to be more pothole than road. I know that there will always be more roads under construction than roads not under construction, and that construction plans here have recently had a weird predilection for building roundabouts in inexplicable places. I can even accept the fact that making a left turn in the town of Holland requires an advanced college degree, training in tactical military maneuvers, and a prescription for Xanax.

What I just can’t seem to grasp is the fact that people outside my car can see what’s happening inside my car.

Oh, I’m not alone in this transgression. And folks, just let me say here for the record – it doesn’t matter what kind of car you drive or where you’re  driving it, we can all see that finger in your nose. And when that finger is two knuckles deep, no one believes you’re  just itching.

Own the pick, dude. But do your booger-mining in private, please.

My in-car embarrassment isn’t quite so vulgar. Mine is more performative in nature.

That’s right: I sing. With the radio or without accompaniment. I sing loudly. And badly. I have zero delusions about my singing ability – or rather, lack thereof.

My automotive concertos also have to include instruments, naturally. Air guitar is a specialty, although experience has shown that my air drumming is a crowd favorite. Now that I think about it, that may be due to spectator fear that my swinging “batwings” may take out a window or even a nearby cyclist during a particularly enthusiastic crescendo.

I’ve also been known to carry on all kinds of conversations behind the wheel. Maybe I’m pre-planning a difficult discussion at work, or reliving a recent conversation to include all the jazzy comebacks I wish I’d said. Sometimes I talk my way through an upcoming blog post or an a bit of dialogue for my next novel. And let’s  face it, sometimes I’m just having a really important discussion with myself.

Hey, I live with my sons, aged 15 and 25. They both stopped listening to me long ago, roughly the same time they realized they were taller than me.

So, around their tenth birthdays.

They tend to wander away while I’m talking, or interrupt because they’ve  tuned out the sound of my voice and don’t realize I’m still speaking.

In my car, I have a captive audience, even if that audience consists of just me. I’ll take any opportunity to carry on a conversation with anyone, myself included. I mean, if I bore myself enough to tune out or walk away while I’m driving, I’ve got much bigger things to be worried about.

On my way to work yesterday, I did some fairly epic multitasking. I chatted through both sides of an intense conversation between main characters in my novel while enjoying a live recording of REM’s “Catapult." Everything was going great until I had to stop for a red light just in time to channel my inner Bill Berry for a fabulous drum solo.

I rocked it. The red light was a great opportunity to get both hands involved. I even worked up a bit of a sweat—although it's only fair to admit that I’ve also been known to work up a sweat putting on shoes and socks, so make of that what you will. Suffice it to say that I was seriously getting into it.

Right up until the moment I realized that the vehicle next to me at the stoplight was a school bus.

A school bus full of kids.

A school bus full of kids watching in open-mouthed wonder.

I immediately began praying that the students on that bus did not attend the school at which I was scheduled to substitute teach that day.

Let me just make it perfectly clear that God did not answer my prayers that day. Questions rolled in from students all day long.

“Ma’am, do you drive a little white car?”

 “Miss, what song were you listening to this morning?”

And my personal favorite: “Ma’am, should you be working today after whatever that was that happened in your car?”

It occurs to me that if I want to continue teaching in this town, it might be time for me to look into public transportation.