And no, that does not mean I dance and sing on cars like crazed car models (or what I assume models do at car shows, like GOB’s business model or Penny’s mom; although both those examples are boat shows not car shows … oh well).
What I mean is I dance and sing in my car. Obviously. I dance like nobody’s watching and I sing like nobody’s listening, even though at stop lights and intersections, most people are.
And in my younger car dancing days, that would’ve given me pause. It once made me insecure to sing out Jackson 5 while shimmying back and forth next to an amused sedan driver, but I soon realized that I just didn’t care.
I’m never going to see said sedan driver again nor will I have to deal with the judgments of Mr. Pick-Up Truck when the light goes green. So even though the sight of a tall, white girl dancing and singing her heart to everything from Young MC’s “Bust a Move” to Frozen‘s “Love is an Open Door” to MKTO’s “Classic” will make someone recoil, it may also make someone laugh, thus improving their day.
Because honestly, when have you not laughed at the person rocking out with abandon in their car?
Plus, I’ve never sounded or moved better than when singing and dancing in the driver’s seat. Especially to Adele. When I sing to Adele in my car, it’s like there’s two of us. (Which of course, is not true. Something I had to learn the hard way when bored and internetless, studying for a semester in Germany, where I decided to record myself – just myself – singing out “Rolling in the Deep”. Turns out, I am no Adele.)