Dear Reader,
When I was a kid, my mother always told me "It's not polite to stare," and it's days like today that I really wish I would have learned that lesson.
As I was driving back to my office today, I pulled up to a stop light, and the guy in the van next to me was doing something that I just don't think I could physically do while I was driving--even if I wanted to.
He was driving with his leg resting perfectly flat, up against the driver's window, where most people rest their arm. He looked quite comfortable. He was wearing blue jeans, his shoe was off and he had a brand new white sport sock on. Now, I can do a lot of things while I'm driving, including writing this "Dear Reader," but I just can't imagine driving with my left leg raised that high up in the air. I'd be in some serious pain. I tried not to stare, but he caught me and gave me a big smile and a wink. I'm not quite sure what kind of communication exchange he thought we were having, but I was embarrassed that he caught me gazing at him.
This wasn't the first time I've regretted staring at someone. Last summer, a very good-looking younger man pulled up alongside me at a stoplight. He was smiling and giving me some very friendly looks. This girl soaked it up, smiling back, staring at his great looking Mercedes sports car. I was feeling pretty good, thinking "I may be getting older, but I can still turn a head."
When the light changed, I looked in the mirror and to my horror, I saw a big yellow glob of mustard on my nose. My mother should have preached to me not to eat while driving, too.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
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