The radio in my car’s shot.
It’s so bloody quiet in my car now it’s down right scary. I can almost hear someone whispering in my ear when I’m alone in the car. It’s fuckin’ eerie I tell ya.
So I do the scarier thing. I sing.
I sing to keep the spirits away.
So the next time you see a silver Waja barrelling down the highway with the driver seemingly singing at the top of his lungs to Bohemian Rhapsody, don’t point and snicker. Instead, sing along.
If you point and snicker, them spirits will visit ya. There, I’ve cursed you.
