Drivebys.....
 
 
-- a series of vignettes --

As a person who spends 30% of her waking hours in her car, I've grown used to taking in everything in one quick sidelong glance as I shoot past or round the corner.  Sometimes what I see is crystal clear in content as well as intent, but not always...

"sticker shock"


A gray Honda with bashed-in fenders cuts me off to stop.  Stickers plaster the rubberized bumper.

Red and white with peeling corners, decorating the left-hand edge.  "I love my career.  I'm a volunteer."

Beside it clings a yellow square with green letters beckoning me to "Mexicali Park -- the Fiesta of My Dreams".  Si,.

The light cycles with bovine slowness, one lane at a time.  I tap my fingers to the radio's tune.

"I don't care how your ancestors did it in South Dakota."  Blue and white, rife with suppressed rage and bitterness.

I begin to wonder about the occupant -- broad of shoulder and very tall.

One last sticker.  Black and white declaring, "I Saw What You Did!"

The car beside me revs again, the nondescript middle-ager draped around the steering wheel of his mud-green sedan; mousy brown hair too long for his looks.  Shirt cuffs dragging below the sleeves.  Two buttons on a three-button sleeve.  He rocks back and forth, black eyes burning a vision past the crest of a hawkish nose.  He turns and glares at me, lip curled in unreasoning sneer.  Then his eyes alight on the Honda's bumper.  The sockets widen; the lips repeat the five black words.  His head swivels back; vile words of accusation spit against the window.

Not I, I want to say, but...

He rattles the door, jammed in traffic, starting to open as he finds the handle....

What did you do?   I find the gas, and I'm gone.


 
 
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