Just Another Car on the Road: Fix Your Squeak
When driving in traffic, you’re bound to hear a variety of car sounds. Some are amusing—like the overly aggressive exhaust that announces itself long before the car appears, only for it to be a tiny vehicle with a sound system far louder than its presence warrants. Others evoke concern, like the clankity-clank of a struggling car limping along, its fate uncertain. You can’t help but wonder if it will break down right there in the middle of the road, leaving everyone around it to react accordingly.
But for me, the most frustrating sound of all is the unmistakable, high-pitched cry of neglect: brake squeal.
Today, I’m in stop-and-go traffic, and with every stop—squeeeeeeeal, squeeeeak. Oh, come on! Why don’t you fix your squeak? That’s what I’m shouting in my head. My mission is clear: I must locate this offender and, through well-timed glances of disapproval, silently urge them to consider the people around them and handle their business.
Then, I pull off onto a side street, away from the congestion. There’s no one around. Just me.
And yet—squeeeeeal, squeeeeak.
The squeaker… is me.
Isn’t that just like life? We get so caught up in pointing out other people’s problems that we fail to recognize our own.
Well, look at that—an auto center. Time to fix my squeak.
This is Ralph, and I’m just another car on the road.