So there I was questioning my sanity.  I mean, who the Hell is dumb enough to go to Walmart after work on a Friday afternoon/evening?  Only the most loving wife ever!  But even a loving wife knows she’s an idiot.

I attempt to make my escape, very slowly I might add, because God forbid people paid attention as they cross the parking lot to go into the store with their herd of children under the age of 5 that they assume will play follow the leader but NEVER do.  My annoyance level is sky-rocketing, and I am feeling the urge to start yelling obscenities at the oblivious parents when another car caught my eye and brought a big old smile to my face.  Yes, friends, 3 cars back in the we’re-never-getting-out-of-this-line, I saw car dancing!  That’s right, a mom and her kids were full-scale, hard core, get-your-groove-on raisin’ the roof with the tunes jammin’.  It rocked!  Not only was I reminded of a favorite pastime, but it brought me greater joy to see a couple of ain’t-got-no-rhythm moms walking by the car and joining in.  And that’s how my Walmart trip was salvaged!

I love car dancing!  Forget the coffee when you’re nodding off on the longest drive ever.  Screw road rage!  Just put in the roadtrip mix cd and break out the moves.  Get your Mountain Dew bottle microphone and sing at the top of your lungs.  Bonus points if you have a passenger for duet material.  Mega powerball points if you belt out Islands in the Stream!  But only if you’ve got the motion going, too!  It’s all about the action Jackson. 

You gotta do a little low-rider in the seat as you tub-thump some air drummin’ on your steering wheel for anything Aerosmith or Poison.  Plus, Bryan Adams deserves your air guitar  during Summer of ’69, damn it!   And don’t be afraid to shake that rump on your leather seat to a little Shakira.  Ain’t nobody judgin’.  Feel free to go old-skool with a little mashed potato to your Dirty Dancing soundtrack (and don’t even tell me you don’t have one – it’s there in the secret depths of the cd collection, I guarantee it!)  Or you can hand-jive to some Grease (and by hand jive, I did mean the dance, sick-o!) and you can fire up the chicken dance or a little macarena when things get dull.  It’s okay to put it out there – dance, sing, party on, dude!  Give those peaches a shimmy-shake to Steve Miller and Hitch it up with a little white-men-can’t-dance lawnmower and Q-tip move ala Kevin James if you gotta.  And I’m definitely expecting some swaying and pointing fingers to the sha-la-las in Brown-Eyed Girl.  That’s right – I said it – get those endorphins working for you.  You are destined to be the talk of the stoplight, the road, the interstate, and most definitely the entire c.b. nation of over-the-road truckers and that is perfectly okay!  In case nobody’s mentioned it lately, adults are still allowed to have fun!  In fact, rumor has it that it makes us less bitchy, irritable, and mean.  Who knew?

Okay, so maybe you have better song choices or your grooves are better than mine.  It wouldn’t take much.  I’m just simply suggesting that you find your inner teenager, you know, the one that screamed, “get laid, get fucked” during Mony, Mony at every high school dance ever attended even though it was completely inappropriate.  Of course, I never did such things, but we all know – you did.  So find that inner teenager, and I’ll see ya YMCAing on the road, or maybe on YouTube!

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