Sitting in traffic, you realize everyone is just trying to paddle their own canoe. Each person in each vehicle has their own narrative. We interrupt each other's story so infrequently, it makes me wonder about the stories contained in their rolling metal boxes.
Just like me, people do whatever they can to pay the bills. Some people are lawyers. Some build homes. Others are doctors and cooks and funeral directors. You know, normal occupations.
And then you roll up to a car like the one on the left and realize that the imagination machine in your head might need a little extra calibration.
The B-52s would have a field day with this guy.
Gather ye rosebud tattoos while ye may.
Eye Would Drive 4 U
Asphincter says what?
Brush it off.
Get me a truck and make it snappy.
Color me bemused.
Custom mods are cool.
It's great to be a Florida Gator. We think.
The ball cops are here. They have a warrant.
We've got wood.
Timing is everything.
Haten and hogs.
Jimi Hendrix Edition.
Sit on it and rotate.
I'm your private antenna dancer.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Welcome to Springfield.
Orange you glad you're not this guy?
Everything's better when it sits on a Ritz.
Porn as a windowshade.
Jonathan Livingston Redneck.
Buc off, pal.
Such a dirty mess.
How cheep can you be?
I'm super! Thanks for asking.
Would you like an apple pie with that?
Hearse so good.
Drive fast, take chances.
Riding with Fab the deejay.
Beware of the Death Explorer.
Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right.
My other car is a rocket-propelled grenade.
Live long and prosper. In an Altima.
Just two good ol' boys.
Nicotine is my crash helmet.
Jazz hands moms.
Ugly lug nuts.
My honor student can kick your ass.
Horse and buddy.