Confession

I have a confession to make. I love to look inside people's cars and imagine what sort of lives are exhibited there. For instance, there is a silver car (I'm a girl, I don't pay attention to make and model) that parks next me in the parking garage. I had just pinpointed this person to be a hockey player slob. The bags of chips strewn across the front seat plus the mounds of hockey gear in the back gave it away. Then yesterday evening as I gave a cursory glance in the back end of his car I was confusingly surprised. Sheet music! What kind of hockey bum was this? Stacks of sheet music now served as a coating for the hockey gear. Was he transporting it as a favor? Or did my conception of him need to be radically reassessed? Yes, I do believe this is a musically talented hockey slob. So driver's beware. What you leave in your car may lead me to make assumptions about you, true or otherwise.