Friday, September 25, 2009
Caffeinated Randomness: Rock on
I try to listen to something upbeat on the way to work. Marc Broussard, Grits, the Derek Trucks Band...something that kind of gets me ready to face the day, you know?
So I turned on some Marc and started driving the seven miles to my workplace, thinking about my 5k next week and if I could trash talk the preacher any more. What? Did I not mention this?
Sunday night we were over at a friend's parents house, and the pastor and his wife were there, too. Dr. R asked me how my 5k the day before had gone, and I told him we'd finished, but our time was bad. "Well, what was it?" he asked. I told him. He. Straight. Up. Laughed. Laughed!
"I could CRAWL faster than that!!" he exclaimed.
Smart aleck. "Well, time for you to prove it," I retorted. "There's another one in two weeks. Are you ready, or are you scared you're going to get beat by a couple of girls?"
I'd like to say I scared him when I challenged him. Maybe I did. He's hard to read sometimes.
At any rate, I planned for the shirts Rindy and I could make for this next 5k. I'm not sure what they'll say on the front, but on the back, they'll say, "How's the view look from back there, R?"
I might have also shot R an e-mail Tuesday with the form to fill out for the 5k with three words under it: "Eat my dust." Yeah...
At any rate, I'm not sure if he's signed up or not. I suppose we'll find out Sunday. If he did, I gotta pick up the pace. If not...well, doesn't that mean I already won?
Anyway, back to the story. As I was driving in the minimal traffic our city has, I was stuck behind this red truck, and I noticed the driver, the only person in the vehicle, jerk his head erratically, as if he were mad at someone. Curious and stopped at a red light behind him, I watched closer.
He was air drumming.
Now, granted, I've been known to cut a rug or two in the car, but I have never seen someone so intently focused on playing imaginary drums in a vehicle that it actually shook the vehicle. No joke.
I was fascinated by his dedication to the scene in his mind, especially during his morning drive. From the stickers on the back of his truck, I could tell he went to high school, and he had curly dark hair.
I had to see who this air drummer was. When the red light changed, I sped forward, knowing he'd turn right in less than a mile, and I did not want to miss seeing what he looked like.
It took some fancy manuevering on my part to stay between the three lanes of traffic, and then my car voomed forward until my car and the air drummer's red truck were side by side. I looked to my right.
Turns out I recgonized that face.
Turns out...it was the preacher's son.
I have no words.
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