You know that car, the one so decorated with bumper stickers you have to look closely to find the original paint color? The one that has you wishing for longer red lights because there’s so much to read? The one that has you questioning whether the driver actually has that many opionions or just craves the attention? Yeah, that car. How exactly does that happen?
Maybe it starts off innocently enough with a sticker declaring one’s child an honor student, at which point parental pride may take over, expanding the sticker collection to include the offspring’s sports affiliations, hobbies and down the road a ways, military service. At that point it’s not too difficult to imagine the floodgates opening. ” Oh, there’s a dent over the left rear tire? Cover that with the “I ❤ my Corgie” sticker. But now it’s uneven… better put that ‘Coexist’ one on the other side…”
It’s a mystery to me. But two things I know for sure: First, when it comes to my own ride I have a low-to-no-sticker threshold, so much so that I can seem myself down the road explaining to my child why his school pride sticker would look oh, so much better on the fridge. And two, I’m grateful for those with high sticker tolerance, for without them red lights would be much less entertaining.