I do a lot of driving for my job. I spend a lot of time on the road and sometimes I bring from home a CD to listen to.
Anyone who has spent any time at all with me in the last few weeks knows (in, probably, tedious detail) that the choir is singing Handel’s Messiah at the end of the year. We started rehearsals for it last night, and I’m pretty excited. Yes, I’m a nerd.
I’ve been celebrating (and this is where those two apparently unconnected introductory paragraphs do actually come together) by playing Messiah in the car. Loudly. And singing. Enthusiastically. I was doing exactly this, sitting at a red traffic light in one of the outer suburbs, when my attention was caught by the driver of the car next to me: a woman, perhaps in her fifties, also singing enthusiastically to whatever music she was playing on her car’s stereo.
I love seeing other drivers singing their heart out in the bubble of their own car. I think it’s cool. It makes me smile. And so I was smiling, and singing, as she turned her head to look at me. Our eyes met and we grinned at each other, united in uncool-ness, brought together, just briefly, by a shared enjoyment of singing enthusiastically where no one could hear us.
Then the lights changed and off we both drove and the moment was over. But I was smiling as I was driving, because it’s nice to have a connection, however brief, with someone just as cool as I am.
Cool – or nerdy. Take your pick.