Write a letter to a stranger.

Dear Stranger,

You don’t know me, but I know your music – at least that’s what I’ve heard it called. The ground waves of the lower octaves carry farther than you realize. Or maybe you do know. Perhaps you are keeping the gain turned up and your car  windows down so others who can’t afford to spend a thousand dollars on a sound system can enjoy yours at no extra charge. That is a thoughtful gesture. Thanks.

You aren’t the only one with loud a radio. There are a few others. But I have learned to identify yours because the low sounds cause your license plate to rattle in its holder. Nice touch. I reminds me of the drivers in the West Indies. Cars and sounds are important to them also.

As each driver passes by someone they know they sound their horn in a distinctive honking pattern. It might be two honks a space then three more honks. The choices are many as long they keep the total at ten or less. They use a telephone rotary switch. I could explain how they wire it, but there isn’t enough space to do that here.

Actually, for a time I was unaware of the honking pattern. It was just unadulterated noise. Like your radio produces. Then one day while  I was visiting my landlord a car traveling Isabela Avenue sounded his horn.. “There goes Andrew,” he said with looking to be sure. “How can you tell?” I asked. The honking pattern. Pedro has his honk. Jose has his. And Jesus wired his to toot ten times. They simply dial a honk.. The return spring does the rest.

Anyway, if you were trying to make yourself noticed, you’ve succeeded. But not in a positive way.