I spent yesterday in Colorado Springs and managed to head back right during rush hour, driving up I-25, then (as I usually do) hopping off c-470 at the earliest exit possible (Quebec) to roll down County Line road.
I was listening to the radio with my windows down and the music loud (just the way I like it in the summer) while I sat at the corner of Quebec and County Line waiting to turn left when I heard a catchy beat from someone else’s radio winding through the pop-hiss riff of the remixed “Tom’s Diner” featuring Suzanne Vega that was playing on mine. My song was good, but this one sounded better, so I turned down my radio to listen.
Nothing. Either I’d imagined the competing beat, or whoever it was had turned down their radio. I looked around to see why.
Sitting in the next car over (a late-model subaru with faux-holstein patterned seat covers and the windows rolled down) was a woman with her hand on the volumn dial, frowning to herself, and looking around. She spied me just as I saw her (with my hand on my own volumn dial) and we both looked properly sheepish.
Then, to make up for turning down our radios when the other person obviously had wanted to listen in, we both turned the music back up at the same time.
I never did get to hear what she was listening to.
