I’m sitting at a bus stop watching the cars go by as I wait for the bus. The sound of noisy cars and street ambiance slowly cross-fade to the voices of two people walking towards the small bus shelter. One of them, a woman, sits down right next to me, at which point her conversation with the man she is with suddenly comes into coherence.
The two strangers are talking about cars. Cars they hate, cars they love, cars they’ve had experiences with. The woman reminisces on an old dodge she once had. The man snickers and expresses his hatred for dodges — not good cars he says — and then goes on to say jeeps and chryslers are similarly poor.
As they go on and on about cars, I sit there and wonder, why, why talk about cars, here at the bus stop as we sit and watch dozens and dozens of cars pass by. We’re waiting for a car — a bus really, but it’s a car. I just don’t find it interesting in the least bit. Why then not talk about trees? They’re everywhere too. Trees aren’t relevant to most of us, I suppose. But that’s a lie. Trees are very relevant. Without trees we could not breathe. Without trees we could not talk about cars.
The bus is coming now; only about a block away. I begin to tune out of their conversation as I focus on pulling the correct amount of change out of my pocket. The bus pulls up, its loud, shrieking breaks sounding off. As it comes to a complete halt, its flimsy doors squeaks open. I think to myself: trees sound a lot nicer.
