Cranks My Tractor

It was around 40 degrees on this last day of November. Life was catching up with me and I was tired before the day had even started. Backing out of the driveway, I turned on the music in my car and decided that I would not let this day get the best of me. It was my birthday!

Motown, here I come.

As the O’Jays started belting out “Love Train,” my body was moving faster than my car going down the street leaving my house. The only thing better than singing in the shower, is dancing in the car.

Leaving my neighborhood, the car was literally bouncing from my movements inside. I was just warming up.

My commute is about 30 minutes on a normal morning down Interstate 64 on the Virginia Peninsula. Everyone in my car decided we would dance all the way to work. I was alone.

The antics of a borderline middle-aged nut embarrass spouses, children and friends. However, on this morning, there was no one to embarrass but myself and I was in the car.

Heated seats are nice. My vehicle has about 180,000 miles on it, but the heated seats work just fine. The heated seats are also good for dancing in the car. My backside was sliding from left to right as I merged onto the interstate; it was time for some real car dancing.

Safely controlling the vehicle with my left hand, I continued to slide from left to right in the seat and do a lasso move with my right hand. Think cowboy about to rope a calf.

I had caught a nice open stretch on the interstate, with the exception of a white Mercedes that was right behind me. In my rear view mirror, I could tell the driver was a female.

The lady in the Mercedes pulled over into the left lane and seemed to want to pass. When she got up beside me, she settled in for the show. I danced harder. I went from a right handed lasso to a left handed lasso and although she couldn’t see it, I was getting in some nice hip and pelvic moves.

I looked over at her with a happy smile that had a touch of stupid in it. She just looked back, with an expression of concern. It was unfulfilling to me; I wanted her to be entertained. I could tell she was an older woman, but that was no excuse.

A group of cars were approaching from behind the free side by side show I was putting on for this woman. The lady in the white Mercedes slowed and got back in behind me.

Cars were now passing on my left. My seat was hot and I was on a roll. I kept playing the O’Jays “Love Train” over and over again. I pretended Don Cornelius, the host of Soul Train (think 1970’s) was saying, “It’s time for the Soul Train Line.”

The Soul Train Line was when the dancers made two lines and took turns doing their best moves between the lines.

My shoulder shrugging move was hitting close to perfect and my head bobbing chicken move was dead on.

A school bus full of children came by and waved and laughed. They were followed by two young girls who proceeded to dance with me from their car. They got a special butt-bump with the inside of the car door move for their enthusiasm.

The lady in the white Mercedes came back up on my left, again just to watch. I was touching my chin on the steering wheel and then the back of my head on the headrest to the rhythm of the music. Again, I looked over at her. The lady still had no smile, but more of an “Oh My” look on her face.

Her lack of enjoyment was disappointing to me.

She then eased back in behind me for a backstage view and to let a refrigerated truck pass on the left. As the truck passed, I had started throwing in some Kung Fu dance moves while continuing to try to throw my shoulders out of whack.

The fellow on the passenger of the truck side laughed and pushed the palms of his hands in the air telling me to “pump it up.” I did - I finally switched from the O’Jays to the Jackson 5. They were singing “I Want You Back.”

I picked up a dry erase marker that was in the passenger seat and started singing into it while continuing to dance. It is difficult to do a complete spin while driving. However, I did get in more than few big head bobs (minus the afro) to the rhythm of the beat.

As I was snapping my fingers on my left hand and driving/holding the dry erase marker microphone with my right hand, my older admirer pulled up again on my left side. I tipped my hat and gave her the “I did the best I could” look because I was about to have to exit.

To my surprise, she again pulled in behind and took the same exit. There are only a few stop lights between the interstate and the research center where I work. At each light, I looked in the rearview mirror and the lady in the white Mercedes was still there.

At the last stop light, I was singing/screaming with the Jackson 5, “All I want, All I need…” into the black dry erase marker. My right ring finger and pinky stuck straight out as I held my pretend microphone high in the air.

Passing through the security gate, the lady was still behind me. Not only did she take in my 30-minute show, but she worked at the same place I did. Thousands of folks pass through this gate a day, so I still wasn’t worried.

I flipped on my blinker to turn right into the parking lot of my building. Looking in the rear view mirror, I swallowed my tongue – my onlooker who I couldn’t seem to please was turning in right behind me. She parked two spaces over in the parking lot. When I got out of my car, it (the car) was still shaking.

She got out of her car and looked at me.

I looked at her.

I wanted to scream like Russell Crowe in his role as Maximus, in the movie “Gladiator.” In the movie, there is a scene where Maximus dispatches of a fellow gladiator in the ring, hurls his sword into the crowd and yells, “Are you not entertained? Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?”

I didn’t do that.

I simply turned around backwards toward the entrance to the building and did the best Michael Jackson moonwalk a middle-aged white man in Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star low top tennis shoes could do on asphalt.

She never said a word. When I got inside, I asked a co-worker if he knew the older lady who drove the white Mercedes. He said, “Yes, she brings a lawn chair in the summer and sits outside and reads documents.”

I asked him, “Is she a bit odd?”

Read more stories online at www.CranksMyTractor.com.