But Can You Dance To It?
Short Story Day 159 of 365
After Hank and Mildred Bergan were at the light for a few seconds, a Toyota Corolla pulled up beside them. With neon blue undercarriage lights, a custom flames paint job, and a booming bass beat pounding from inside the car, it was hard not to notice the car, which was the point.
In their 70s, the Bergans were in the midst of a heated discussion on the present state of affairs in Europe and the Middle East when the Corolla pulled up, rattling the interior of their Lexus with every beat.
Mildred looked over at the driver and could barely see him through his tinted windows. She rolled down her window, put her hand outside and made a rolling motion, as if to say ‘roll down your window.’
As his window came down, the bass was even louder and more obnoxious with the added disadvantage of being able to hear some of the angry lyrics.
Mildred cupped her hands over her mouth and moved her lips for about 10 seconds.
Shrugging his shoulders, the driver mouthed, “What?”
She repeated her actions.
The driver reached over and turned the music down, but not off. The volume was still a quarter of what it was originally.
Mildred reached down and patted the side of her car three times with the palm of her hand, cupped her hands, and mouthed some words.
The driver, curious what this old woman was doing, turned his music completely off and said, “What?”
The light turned green, and Mildred smiled and said, “Thank you” as Hank drove off.
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