You know what it’s like when you’re driving along an empty road and a tune comes on the radio, there’s nothing else you can do. A voice comes from deep inside and explodes all over your steering wheel. I’m a car singer.
But then the empty road winds its way into the city and the traffic germinates around you. Soon, you find yourself sitting next to cars on both sides of you, waiting at a red light, and you’re still singing that song. I’m a car singer.
You’re oblivious to the rest of the world. You’ve transcended into another time and space. You can’t see the looks that you’re getting and you don’t care either. For that moment, you’ve become Bonnie Tyler and nothing is going to get in your way.
People in the UK are moaning currently about people talking on phones while driving, eating while driving, and even, smoking while driving, but the car singer ploughs on unaffected. None of these other distractions make you look like a complete and utter tit while making you oblivious at the same time.
I must’ve driven past people dying at the side of the road while I’ve been busy singing Oasis at the top of my voice or, perhaps, I’ve even run over a few small children during the chorus of Don’t Stop me Now. None of this would’ve happened if I was just talking to someone on the phone.
The level of phone call would have to be immense before it even came close to matching the same level of distraction. I’m talking about the phone call which tells you that your wife’s pregnant, or that your mum’s died. It would have to be that bad before you forgot where you were, but a few bars of You’re So Vain and boom.
So, think about the dangers of car singing the next time that song comes on the radio and you feel your hands warming up on the steering wheel toms. Just remember that dogs die in hot cars, but songs are killed ten times more frequently.