The speed at which you drive, and the noise you make in the getting there, add prestige to the destination toward which you tend. My estimation of your destination grows with your acceleration! Vroom!
You honor us with the style you demand of yourself—even when cloistered in chassis, even at velocities at which a glimpse can hardly be caught, let alone a gaze sustained.
You take seriously the demands and concerns of this world, no other. And in this world, one must look nice. One must move through this shared space and time with style. You do not see it, but the hat that was previously resting on my head? It is off. It has been doffed. Doffed it has been before, and doffed it will be again.
Perhaps someone else views you as you pass; if so, you know he or she views a man anticipating an audience, who expects that the viewer likes what he or she saw. S/he does!
In inclining to one side, you add machination and exhaust to Dickinson’s dictum on truth. You tell it to everyone you pass (—though you regard them not, you regard them in full!): You drive a true line, slanted.
If an officer of the law pulls you over, you will certainly be arrested for driving under the influence… of your own true and unadulterated self!
Your choice of car indicates modesty. Its spoiler, immoderation. Your bearing and dress loudly proclaim these and other innumerable truths and contradictions on a Massachusetts roadway Wednesday, April 11, 2012.