Tapping away....

The only driving I do is driving people nuts.

So when I am with someone driving his / her set of wheels, I’m the one merrily looking out of the window, adjusting the AC duct onto myself to ensure that I remain as cool as a cucumber (literally), making little crooning noises to myself when the radio station decides to play a well-liked number, on daring days I might do a lil sing-along too, click my tongue disapprovingly when a not-the-most-liked song makes an entry on the charts, screw up my nose when the adverts are a lot and not well-spaced out...

And oh yes, see the way people tap on their steering wheels.

Now, some people steer with one hand.

Some hold the steering wheel right at the bottom.

There are others who hang on to the steering wheel for dear life. (I ascribe to this school, as pointed out by Daddy dearest last month, during one of the few driving lessons that solely tried his patience).

However way you may hold the steering, there are bound to have been instances when you tapped on it.

TOOMA* holds the steering lightly, sometimes tapping it to the rhythm of some peppy number playing in the background, besides delivering a relatively decent karaoke rendition on some days.

Dad does a particularly amusing thumb dance on the steering, which is usually accompanied by some (very loud) humming.

Brother leaves one hand free to rap me smartly on my pretty head repeatedly (a gesture he claims, is one of deep sibling love), which I know is a whole lot of BS. And when the turn signal is clicking, he will synchronize it with some merry tapping, leaving me free to do what he loathes the most – ruffling his hair. The priceless steely glare he gives is enough to throw my head back and give one of my throaty engine laughs, another f his pet peeves.

Best guy friend, when he is not making scary sounds at every sharp turn, taps relentlessly on the wheel, not missing a breath from his string of non-stoppable conversation.

Longtime gal pal from college, when she is not checking her reflection in the rearview mirror, concentrates on holding the steering lightly with her fingers, doing a little tap-dance every now and then, and grinning at me good-naturedly, eyes twinkling, chattering about the next shopping area that we would be gracing with our presence.

Another close friend, she of the many colorful moods, when she does not have a lit-up ciggie in her hand, does her own version of thumping, which closely resembles some merry horses trotting to the nearby pasture to get a full tummy.

Of course the delicate hands gesticulate wildly and the right one often ball ups, a particular finger showing prominently, to an errant driver who tries to swoop into the lane in front...

*TOOMA - The Object Of My Affection