If I sang in your car you would go around the next turn so fast that not even the best seatbelt could keep me in my seat. Which is of course the whole point. Get me OUT of your car.

I really am just that bad. Especially because I like John Denver.

WILL YOU KINDLY GET THE HELL OUT OF MY CAR.

Or carry a pair of rolled socks. You get the idea.

And people wonder why I’m single.