It has come to my attention that my opinions are not universally shared. This has never been as strikingly apparent as during a recent discussion of “car singing.”
As you know, there are two types of car singing. There’s the kind you do when you are alone in the car, and I think we can all agree that it hurts no one. Granted, I don’t want to see you “Riding Dirty” in your Hyundai even if I can’t hear you. It’s a form of visual pollution. But as long as I can look away, it’s no big deal.
Things get a little uglier if your window is down and we’re both stopped in traffic. Luckily, the unpleasantness doesn’t last long. Soon, your off-key ass is puttering away to bother someone else. Again, it’s no big deal.
Things only get ugly when you are trapped in a full car, with the radio playing, and you have one enthusiastic car singer who thinks she knows the words. (The perp is usually a she.)
To some, this unrestrained musical enthusiasm is an affirmation of life. To others, it’s the second best way to ruin music, just after imagining Elton John’s sex life. I am in the latter category, and by that I do not mean I am Elton John’s sex life. I mean that when I am trapped with a car singer, I have a strong urge to drive the car into a ravine to make it stop.
You might be wondering why I don’t politely ask the car singer to desist. It doesn’t work. Car singers believe they have an unalienable right to sing along with the music even if it does make other people feel as if squirrel-banshees have crawled inside their skulls to eat the parts of their brains that control joy. Car singers will fight you over this.
The surprising thing is that car singing has any supporters. It’s hard to think of one other type of pollution where people will defend it, as in “Don’t be so uptight; I only peed in the part of the pool where I was swimming alone.” Or “I couldn’t finish the sandwich, so I put the rest in your couch crack. Is that any reason to be upset?”
Which side are you on?