Riding in an auto really never gets old.
There is always something new and wild to see. Or something wild that has become commonplace. Gone are the days of speeding along at 55mph, safely inside the individual environment of your moving vehicle.
No. In an auto, the entire environment assaults you: the feel, sound and smell of the traffic is right there with you. Inescapable.
You can smell the chickens next door in their truck. (Take a look at those birds and remind me why you like chicken nuggets?)
You can lean over and shake the hand of the man in the colorful magenta sweater, ask him how work was today.
You can reach out and...lick the giant, bright green bus that is close enough to inch over and crush the eensy auto in which you ride.
Maybe "lick" is a gauche word to use about traffic, 'cause you for sure shouldn't lick traffic. Far too dirty.
But the phrase "reach out and touch" just doesn't seem to convey the proximity between you and the next roaringly close vehicle. Really big vehicle with wheels half the size of the sum total of your own mode of transportation.
I mean, those big buses are breathing down on you and all you can do is hope the yellow canvas top of your auto is bright enough to have been seen by the driver.
Adventure around every corner, I tell you.
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