Rock on?

I am definitely NOT known for my dancing ability. I've never really been that great at it (well, maybe okay at tap once upon a time), and my talents have certainly declined with my ever-increasing age and weight. It is so bad that I even refuse to do the white girl snap and sway when I am with my girlfriends trying to re-live pieces of our youth at those ridiculously smoky nightclubs playing music that has no true melody, but simply repetitive beats of nothingness. (Were they that bad when we were in our 20's and we were so desperate in looking for male companionship that we didn't notice?)


Anywho...


The one place that I do feel completely comfortable in my dancing ability, the place that I seem to feel the beat of every piece of music I hear, the place where my body just can't say no to the thump thump thump of the downbeat is...my car. I don't know why, I don't even notice it coming, I just look up and see the people staring from the car beside me and realize that I've been caught doing it again. That's right, I've been rocking out to a good tune. I have no control over it, it seems. It just happens.


I've tried keeping the music low, I've even tried to look around me and remind myself that the people on the other side of the glass can see me as well as I can see them, but 30 seconds into a good song and I am swaying along, thumping on the steering wheel, head moving and singing at the top of my lungs.


Now, usually the only one that is affected by my "rocking out" is myself, but a funny thing happened this week that let me know that the physical movements from inside my car can be interpreted by other people in ways I may not intend.


On my way to the grocery store this week, I was shocked and excited to hear "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" on a local station. (Side note: if you do not know this song by Meatloaf, learn it. It is hilariously wonderful!) Well, like any self-respecting, former musical theatre major, I let loose with a whole routine of movements. Since I live about a minute from Food Lion, there was still a good bit of the song left to enjoy when I pulled up into the parking lot. So, I sat in my car for the next few minutes and rocked on with my dear Meatloaf. (2nd Side Note to April---you know I had to at least reach the part where he almost inaudibly asks, "Am I hurtin' ya' baby?)


So, I finished the song and gathered my things together and started heading into the store where I saw a little old lady standing and laughing. Thinking she was senile, I smiled and started walking past her when she stopped me to tell me that she was glad that she was able to watch me in the parking lot and realize that I was actually moving to the song on the radio.


Apparently, this sweet little lady was in front of me on the drive into the store and thought that I was suffering from some sort of road rage. She actually thought I was accosting her from behind the steering wheel of my white Honda minivan. Ugghh! I was/am absolutely horrified! Not just because she thought my hand gestures were me flipping her off repetitively, but also because she actually saw me dancing for a good 3-4 minutes when I truly thought I was invisible to the world around me. It was a true wake up call that told me that I need to get my car dancing gestures under control before I offend someone else or worse, embarrass myself with my non-dancing abilities.


So, for now, I am going to try and keep my head bopping and air drumming (never really been into air guitar) under control. I am going to try and keep my hands at 10 and 2 and my mouth closed.


But, if you happen to be riding in this little town of Kinston, and see a crazy brunette thrashing about in her vehicle, instead of making fun or assuming that she is cussing you out, how about giving her a friendly wave that says, Rock on, sister, rock on.