On my way home, in truth moving nothing more than the speed limit, I suddenly drive up quickly behind you. A blindingly clean and brilliant scarlet corvette complete with vanity plates. And I’m confused as to why such a cocksure sports car is travelling at such a slow rate. So slow in fact, as to frustrate other drivers, making them impatiently swerve and dart around you.
I pass as you pull over and stop on left shoulder of the road intending to glare (always the extent of my road rage) as soon as I come parallel to your window.
And when I do, I notice a head of shocking white hair. I’m taken aback that you’re an elderly man with aviator shades and a giddy smile on your face.
And beside you?
A woman with hair as white as your own.
Both of you smiling and talking,
faces animated with joy.
Your windows, including the sunroof, wide open letting in the sun and air.
As I pass, I think I hear music playing, something reminiscent of the Beach Boys, or Jan and Dean. Some sort of lighthearted summer fare singing of sun
and days of untroubled youth.
And I think
the amount of time a person inhabits the earth really has nothing to do with how carefree life can be. You, in your bright red corvette, are proof of this. You are not speeding down the road with impatience or the intent of being noticed, or even with the attempt of an adrenaline rush.
Instead you are enjoying the space and more importantly enjoying the time you are in at this specific moment.
Cruising leisurely with no apparent purpose except to enjoy the moment and the company of the person sitting excitedly beside you.
And when I get home I search for my own “scarlet corvette”.