Sitting in the passenger seat of my car never ceases to make everything feel out place in the vehicle, but that is solely because I rarely sit in that side of the car. However, last Thursday night, something was terribly awry and it wasn’t Dave’s driving ability.
I distinctly remember gazing around my car, looking at everything that I rarely view when I noticed the visor above the driver seat. It was the cumbersome beige that lines the interior of most cars, void of interest except when one desperately needs to pick food from their teeth. Something about that visor was wrong that night, even though the shiny Block O pin from Ohio State sat positioned correctly.
I shook off the feeling and forgot about the whole thing thinking it was a bizarre deja-vouz sort of moment. It wasn’t until late Friday evening as I was driving to Dave’s house after law school that I realized the problem.
Driving in a melancholy state resulting from slight neglect over the telephone, I decided to perk my current mood by throwing in one of my more upbeat, pop star CDs (read: Britney Spears). My hand rose up towards the visor and touched the soft fabric. Suddenly, Thursday night’s awkwardness rushed into the current moment and I realized the problem. All of my CDs, except for the few hidden in a visor above the passenger seat, had vanished. The majority of my CDs had been stolen from my car and there was no way to tell when or where the theft occurred. I was sincerely bummed.
To be truthful, I rarely listen to music. I am one of those nerdy folk who pride themselves on their undying love for NPR and the talk radio stations perched at the lower end of the dial. The only CDs I was terribly sad to see go were my Coldplay albums and the soundtrack for the musical The Phantom of the Opera.
Though there is little taste to be had in my choices for music, I will miss my tacky, eclectic stash.