Dear Sir in the Car Next to Me,
You were rocking and rocking and rocking. If you knew me, you would know I mentally went through all of the reasons I could think of that you were rocking. I had some theories, but since all I had to go on was that you were a middle-aged white male driving an out-of-state Toyota, I couldn’t decide anything definitively.
I admired your ability to rock and drive, and I imagined the synchronicity you must have developed between your rocking and driving routines.
It was like watching a beautifully repetitive dance.
And of course I supplied my own soundtrack. I imagined you grooving to a classic rock opera. It was magnificent.
Keep on rockin’,