Rearview Mirror Conversations
What is it with (some) men behind steering wheels?
I took a taxi all excited to go to my first kitesurf lesson. After months of how about tomorrow? All the stars were aligned. The wind, the tide, the kite, the day, the instructor, and I, all available at the same time, that is a heck of alignment, if you ask me.
My excitement must have been the contagious-kind-of-excitement because the driver thought it was ok to start asking me all sorts of personal questions and cherry-on-top, ask me out for dinner.
I am always amazed by how much can be packed into a 2-minute and 57-seconds rearview mirror conversation. Speed-dating and meaning it.
In defense of my interlocutor, I can NOT tell lies, just can’t. So if you ask me anything outside the weather, it can become a Pandora's box pretty fast, and I am totally aware of my contribution to where conversations end up.
Yet, FFS what is it with (some) men behind steering wheels?
What makes them think that it is ok to angle the rearview mirror where they please when you have only access to the back of their skull?
Can’t they control their testosterone levels while they have access to a dashboard full of lights?
Is it the tension created by all the sturdy handles popping up around their waist, the gear lever, and the hand brake?
Is it the access to the clutch, the brake, and the accelerator all with the same hip thrust?
Or is it the seat belt pressuring the big arteries preventing fresh oxygen to reach the brain.
Whatever the reason, dear men, please don’t engage in conversations that you would not be ready to strike, were you not behind a steering wheel, and were my life not hanging onto it.
