I was in the car with Kara, on our way to see some local band at Stevenston Station. Stevenston Station was a big wooden barn-like structure at the intersection of two corn fields where garage bands played in Evansville, Indiana.
Anyhow, she says to me: I wish I had a sign on the outside of my car that broadcasted what music I was listening to.
At which I immediately outwardly scoffed while I inwardly agreed.
Cuz, at 17, I was too cool to admit I want people to think I was cool.
(I'm over that, now, obvs. See: Timberlake, Justin -- my love for.)
I give you, Pimpstar.
The best way to tap that hot highway ass.