Hot Wheels

So apparently I am quite cute when I am in my car, driving down the road, and singing along with the radio.  Yesterday was the fourth time in the last month that some guy has pulled up next to me at a stop light/stop sign and asked for my phone number.  Why do I keep getting asked out while in my car?  It is becoming a very strange little cliche.  I feel like I should go cruise on Friday night like back in high school.  Back when we used to drive forever up and down the long patch of road – windows down – radio up – checking out hot guys – passing phone numbers around at stop lights and gas stations.  This would be really cool if I weren’t twenty-three and looking for something a little more serious than the random hook up that occurs after passing your number to some hot guy while waiting at the light on fifty highway. 

But he was really hot… 

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