Riding in Boys Cars
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The one thing I am going to miss when I grow up is getting to ride in so many different cars. I realized this yesterday as I was driving to a doctor's appointment. I drove down a treelined suburban street where the houses sat silentlyit was 1:45 PM, the inhabitants were all off populating cubicles and offices.
The car on the road in front of me was an early nineties Geo Metro sedanthe kind of car only available in colors so boring that you can't remember if they are brown or beige or purple or even dirty or clean. The Jesus fish on the back was broken; I counted four KRTY Hot Country radio station stickers on the window and bumper.
Two early twenty-ish boys sat in the front, probably listening to the radio and smoking cigarettes, the passenger scooting his feet among the debris of papers and desiccated air fresheners and broken shells from longsincelost mix cassettes. They turned off and went another waymaybe to school or to buy smokes from the minimarket next to the Vietnamese manicure place.
Next in front of me was a white 1988 Honda CRX. The driver was another boy, probably about twenty-four years old. His curly hair spiraled defiantly out from atop his head...