Messing with Teenagers on my Commute…

The other day, while driving home from work, I pull up at a red light next to this slammed-down, rattle-can primered little car.  The driver was a teenager, or at least no older than early 20’s,  and he had his windows down, blaring some unintelligible, and just plain awful, rap music.


I also had my window down and I glanced over at him while we were sitting there.  He sees me look over and smirks at me.  Smirks.  Like he expects that I’m going to be offended by his musical choices.  As if to say ‘Ya, I’m playing my music this loud, what about it?’


Well, that just amused me.  Tickled me, even.  Here I am, a middle-aged mom, driving my suburban home from my office job…he probably thought he was reading the situation correctly.


He was wrong.


I just smiled back at him and reached for my phone to press play on the next song in my ‘drive time’ playlist:  Kill Everyone by Hollywood Undead.  Don’t know it?  Ya, it’s not really safe for work, children, your mom, members of the clergy, or most people who don’t enjoy cursing.  Go look it up if you want a really good angry song to add to your music library.


Also worth noting, my suburban has a pretty amazing sound system.  One that most people would not anticipate to come out of a family-truckster type vehicle.  So when I turned up the volume and hit play, the opening line (if you know it, you know exactly what I’m talking about) completely overpowered this kid’s meager impromptu concert.


And his face was kind of priceless.  Didn’t see that coming, did you kid?


The light turned green and I left him sitting at the stop sign because, in addition to the sound system, my suburban also has quite a bit of jump for a rig that size.


So…take aways from this experience:

1. My suburban has a much better sound system that people anticipate.

2. I am pleased to see that I can still shock people half my age.

3. If a middle-aged mom in the modern day equivalent of a station wagon can out-badass you, you are not as hard as you think you are, son.



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