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’,