Without a cloud in sight and a temperature of 70F, it was a day to drive with the windows down and the radio turned up.  The sweet smells of a budding spring mixed with a song by Schubert playing on the radio; it was a moment of vivacious joy in the few minutes I had to myself between dropping my work and picking up the kids.

That is, it was until I came to the stoplight.  The car next to me held a young woman with similar plans but very different tastes in sound, rhythm and volume.  My options were limited – roll up the windows and proclaim my own sonic territory or crank up Schubert really loud.  Since I’m constant weary of standing out as the oddest duck in the pond, you can guess what I did.  Schubert remained mine, and mine alone, as I wished everyone was willing to do.

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