Tonight E, S, and I went out to do some things. We took the blue bullet--a low, rumbly sporty vehicle that makes S's heart jump for joy. I find it hard to get into-almost impossible to swing the door shut, and the seat "pinchy". I mostly try to get through the noisy fast rides by creating a semi catatonic state, breathing deeply, and concentrating on keeping my feet off my imaginary peddles!--hoping to avoid whiplash in the curves.
As we zipped up the road not far from out house, a hand shot out of the passenger side of an on-coming car--and greeted us with the universal "one finger" salute. As I was concentrating (zen-like) on the center line to keep from getting nauseous, I knew there had been no lane violation! I commented on the rudeness. S said--he is jealous--knows I can beat his hunk of junk! (guys!)
A few miles later, another guy in a flashy yellow performance car waved. I said--Know him? S: No, but it is like motorcyclists--we greet each other. Nice to know, I thought, should I ever be the one behind the tinted windows in this thing! Who knew that there was a whole brotherhood with secret (well, not so secret) hand signals based on owning a car that fulfills some testosterone based need for power and speed.
No wonder women don't understand men--we don't judge other women based on their SUV!! We also are too busy talking on our cell phones to bother with hand signals!
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