I popped it in the car stereo and headed on my way. I shortly realised this was a CD from my adolescent years where I was taken in by the latest song even if it only contained a drum beat, heavily auto-tuned backup singers and a generic rapper over the top who says “yeah” a lot. There were also many other different types of terrible songs from the past that people would probably remember but try to conceal.
Nonetheless I was grooving away on the drive, sadly, knowing all the words and any appropriate hand gestures that went with the song – and no I am not talking about the “Macerena” give me a little bit more credit than that. As I was grooving and driving – drooving if you will – I started thinking about how embarrassing it would be if a) I picked up a hitchhiker (not that I ever would by myself because I don’t want to get stabbed in the neck with a sharpened stick) or b) was in a car accident. Sure I’d be fatally wounded and that would be a big bummer but the main point is that when the hitchhiker got into the car they would probably get right out hearing the terrible music that I happened to be listening to. Similarly, I can imagine a paramedic racing to my crushed, mangled car in slow motion dodging fire (there’s always fire in dramatic situations) ripping the door off its hinges to rescue the poor, innocent and injured damsel... only to realise she was listening to a Shania Twain song from the early 2000s and instead of rescuing me just leaving me there in shame to die in Shania’s country/pop embrace.
I guess everyone has the thought about what-if-they-died-and-someone-would-have-to-clean-out-their-house-and-subsquently-dicovered-their-extensive-collection-of-erotic-smurf-paraphenalia. It has dawned on us all. The car music thing, however, be wary. Listen to “All the things she said” by T.A.T.U. in the safety of your own home. 
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