Yesterday I was coasting down Paradise on my way to work, when I noticed the guy in the Honda ahead of me was spazzing. The car was lurching, the brake lights were flashing rthymically, the guy was flailing his arms. First thought? "Dude's stroking out. This is going to be bad."

But I had the top down on my car and at the Golf Course stoplight, I heard Rush wafting from his open window and I understood. Dude was a drummer and his car was subbing for his kit. He was pretty good, too, if we're rating on the passion and intensity of his air jam. Dude even flipped his fingers around, twirling a phantom stick before launching into his solo. He kept using his wing and rear view mirrors as crash cymbols and his left vent as his high hat. This was better than any impromptu American Idoling I've done in my car.

But that wasn't the end of the auto weirdness on my commute. On Paseo, a guy on the Ninja right in front of me decided it would be TOTALLY AWESOME to pop a wheelie right before the north valley exit and ride it all the way up the hill.

It wasn't the most stable wheelie I've ever seen, and I sussed out an emergency swerve and dodge scheme in case of rolling Ninja and Darwininan debris, but the guy stuck it and went on his merry way, throwing me the devil horns when I passed him for the Jefferson turn.

I don't know. It's something about the car.