It’s time people, time to remove the shameful stigmatism from singing in your car.
You know what I’m talking about. You’re cruis’n down the road when your jam comes on the radio. Under the guise of privacy that your car provides you start groov’n along to the beat. Slowly and ever so quietly the words begin to escape from your mouth. Before you know it you’re singing at the top of your lungs and loving every minute of it.
However, lurking at the next intersection is an ominous red light; a clear sign that the party is about to stop. You’re still feeling those good vibrations only now you realize that you are indeed not alone. With a glance to your left you see that you’ve caught the attention of the driver next to you. Maybe he’s laughing or maybe she is just staring at you, head shaking mouth agape it doesn’t matter, like Marlin the clown fish the “good feeling’s gone”.
You bashfully look away, turn down the radio that was previously blasting and sit in silent shame waiting for the light to turn.
Why should an observer or two stop our little private karaoke car ride? The answer: It shouldn’t.
Last week, due to conflicting schedules, I was without my carpool buddy. I heard Katy Perry’s ‘California Gurls’ on the radio three times. Did I sing along? You betcha, every time. The only way to break this shame cycle is to move beyond the fear of ridicule, abandon our self-reproach, set aside mortification and let the rhythm move you. Of course this was made easy because while I was rock’n out with Katy my lady there wasn’t a car around.
The real test came on my ride home. With Lady GaGa’s ‘Bad Romance’ bump’n through my Honda I was somewhere between “I want your love” and “I want your revenge” when I rolled up to the stoplight. I noticed the car next to me inch forward a bit; undoubtedly my famous seated dance moves caught his attention. Mid head-bob I threw him a nod without missing a beat and burst into an “Oh-oh-oh-oh-Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!” Then I shouted something that sounded like “La Cucaracha!” I don’t know what she’s really saying something in French, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that I was not ashamed. He started to laugh and the light turned. We both went on our way only, for me, the hit parade kept on rolling all the way home.
Say it with me “I [insert your name], sing in my car and am not ashamed!”
There, doesn’t that feel better. Now the next time you are singing along to Taylor Swift (don’t judge me you know you do it) and you find someone peeping in on your performance; resist the urge to turn down the volume and fall into the car singing shame spiral. Instead consider them an unpaid spectator to your show. If they don’t like it they can look away. You just keep singing your little heart out.
My hope is that my children can grow up in a world where it’s perfectly acceptable for them to sing in their car without fear of ridicule or rebuke. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got to get my carpool buddy up to speed on our Carpenters ‘Superstar’ duet for the ride home today.