I thought I’d seen it all, observing my fellow motorists driving around the Bay Area. I’ve seen men shaving with soap and a straight razor, couples and singles engaged in various sex acts, fist fights while speeding down freeways. Alex and I even saw some dude driving a truck with a leashed iguana on his shoulder. But what I witnessed on E. Blithedale yesterday morning takes the charming cake.
As I pulled up alongside a beat-up Isuzu Trooper, watching a ratty old dog jumping around the backseat and popping its head out of a broken window, I rolled my eyes. Jesus Christ. Another smelly, unoriginal hippy on his way to catch some gnarly waves. Why do these people still exist?
But when I looked at the driver, I was delighted by the unexpected scene. Behind the wheel sat a quirky looking character driving his funky Trooper and playing his funky trumpet. He was blowing on that trumpet like there was no tomorrow, pausing occasionally to, you know, look at the road. I stopped next to him at a red light and watched the show. Dizzy Gillespie looked over and caught me smiling, suddenly waving and turning his trumpet towards me. Rapidly becoming more attractive, he played and played the whole red light long. It was fabulous.
The light turned green and I pulled ahead of him, watching Dizzy continue his concert in my rear view mirror. I turned into my office and watched him drive away, trumpet still at his lips, dog still dancing out his broken window. I was almost tempted to follow him and track him down. I mean, this is the kinda guy I want at my parties.
But I didn’t. I simply parked my car, slumped into my desk and wondered about the mysterious musician who’d made my morning.
Golly, folks. I think I’m in love…