I used to think that some of my oddest thoughts were an indication that I am some sort of genetic freak or possibly the result of alien experimentation. But the more I share my thoughts in this blog, the more I find out that I am not alone. Millions of people have thoughts exactly like mine. Today it’s time to test the limit of that theory.
Confession: Often when I am driving my car, I imagine that a caveman has time-traveled to the present and is sitting in the passenger seat next to me.
Seriously.
He’s a modified caveman, not an exact one. In my imagination, the caveman can inexplicably speak English. And he’s wearing pants, because otherwise I would be worried about having his naked caveman buttocks on my leather seats.
What makes this fun is imagining that the caveman is experiencing an automobile for the first time. I show off, taking the turns faster than I should, exceeding the speed limit, that sort of thing. And I try to imagine how amazed the caveman would be. He’d probably try to one-up me by telling a story about the time he “ran real fast.” But I would just nod and smile in my technologically superior way as I gunned the engine, dialed my cell phone, and opened the sun roof.
I might even turn on the radio and the navigation unit just to twist his nads. “Did you have anything like that back in the cave, Bucky? No? Didn’t think so.”
I would call him Bucky even if that wasn’t his name. “Bucky the Caveman” is funny in a way that John the Caveman is not. I think you would agree. Oh, and the other thing about the caveman is that he doesn’t have his club with him to kill me.
Sometimes I try imagining that I AM the caveman and I’m driving a car for the first time. That way the imaginary guy doesn’t get to hog all of the fun. Somehow as a caveman I know how to operate a motor vehicle despite my primitive caveman superstition that flatulence is caused by angering the Moon God.
And then I vote.