It’s 6:15 on a Sunday morning and someone is beeping their car horn out in front of The Stucco Hacienda.
Why is someone honking their horn this early on a Sunday?
Do I call the cops or do I go outside and investigate?
I decide to do the latter.
I walk out the front door. I look up and down the street. There are lots of cars but no sign of life. I walk to the corner and look down the other street. Nothing.
Going back in the house I see movement in the car parked right in front of The Stucco Hacienda. The side windows were so dark I couldn’t see anything when I came out, but the windshield is clear enough for me to see that there are two people inside.
I walk over and tap on the driver’s side window.
“Excuse me,” I say with a smile, after all, might as well be neighborly.
The window rolls down. There’s a young woman at the wheel and a young man in the passenger’s seat.
The scents of life spill out from the opened window: Stale cigarette smoke, the fragrance of perfume and the pungent smell of last night’s alcohol.
“Hi there,” I say. “Were you beeping the horn?”
“I’m sorry,” says the young woman. “I didn’t know the horn worked when the car is turned off.”
I slowly came to realize how the horn probably came to be beeped.
“Well,” I said. “Please don’t do it again, there are people still sleeping.”
I walked back into the house.
I sat down and pondered a cup of coffee and thought about life, thought about how things are when you’re young and full of everything.
Then I thought what my father might’ve said if he’d encountered the same situation.
He probably would have looked in on the couple and sternly said, “GET A ROOM.”
But then, I’m not my dad.
GrantMcGee is a long-time broadcaster and former truck driver who rides bicycles and likes to talk about his many adventures on the road of life. Contact him through his blog at: grantmcgeewrites.com.