The Pink Car Analogy

When I was in fourth grade, my class was shown a video in which an extremely animated young man discussed the importance of being open minded. He proudly explained his pink car analogy- Should one go about their lives as usual, it is unlikely that they will notice very many vehicles of such an unusual color as pink driving down the road. However, should one make an effort to look for them, they will be amazed by the number of unusually colored cars they will be able to point out. In this analogy, he meant to relate the pink cars to kind people- claiming that if you were willing to look for them, their abundance would be proven to you.

I’m not sure whether my current take on open-mindedness was inspired by this video or directly opposed to it. Though I am an observant person, the best in people is not what I am usually open to observing. If the brightest and most unusual colored cars serve as the kindest of people, then you can say that I see the world and its vehicles in black and white.

The morning air was stiff and cold on another rainy December day that refused to satisfy my frustrated longing for snow. Lately, I had more than one reason to be angry with cars- for being so colorless, and for destroying the environment. Annoyed with the fact that my own car matched these descriptions, I decided I would walk to work today. I laced up my winter boots before leaving the house, in hopes that their treaded soles would keep me from slipping on the slick sidewalk. I grabbed my raincoat and briefcase in one arm, and threw the door open with the other. The sound of the rain pelting furiously on the pavement made me reconsider my plan to walk to work. A quick reminder of the monster of an automobile sitting in my garage whose reliance on fossil fuels was contributing to the lack of snow made me ignore the rain’s hostility. I threw my arms into my jacket and prepared to get wet.

I trudged towards the city, keeping my eyes trained on the toes of my boots. As my surroundings morphed from trees to skyscrapers, I was grateful to realize that the rain was lightening up. I removed the hood of my raincoat and watched the path in front of me while the city swallowed me whole.

As the rain slowed, the crowd thickened. I grumbled to myself, remembering how much I preferred the company of bad weather to that of the unintelligent humans that were quickly surrounding me.

“Hey guys!”

I jumped and turned towards the obnoxious squeal to see a blond haired teenager holding a phone up to her wide, ingenuine smile.

“On my way to the gym for the usual morning workout,” she boasted with a flick of her silky ponytail and a swig of her sludge-green smoothie. She concluded her video with a final flash of her teeth, and then her smile immediately faded along with the light of her phone screen. She threw a leather jacket on top of her beige sports bra and headed down Phillips Street (in the opposite direction of the gym she planned to work out at, I noticed). I was grateful to be heading down Statesman, far from both the gym and Phillips Street, where it was unlikely that I’d have to endure another encounter with the blond haired girl.

My pace quickened as I maneuvered skillfully around puddles that had littered the sidewalks for weeks. Despite how many times I listened to White Christmas on the radio this holiday season, I failed to experience one. Christmas was as rainy as today, and I was quickly losing hope for the new year. December snow always provided me with a sense of calm and peace that the people around me could not. I quickly trained my focus back to the rubber toes of my boots as I became aware of the pain the lack of snow inflicted on me this year.

I turned a corner and nearly ran headfirst into a heated argument occurring outside of an Italian restaurant.

“You’ve lost yourself a loyal customer today, young man!” A middle-aged woman was screaming at a scrawny waiter who was gathering his copper-colored apron in his angry fists. He held his tongue as she spewed spiteful remarks about cold food and poor service.

“I’m leaving you a terrible review as well!” she snapped, whipping her phone out of her steel gray purse to put this threat into action. She spun on her heel and walked away with her nose in her phone. 

I watched the waiter’s face turn crimson, and imagined that he was battling with the desire to scream, flip her off, or tackle her to the ground. He settled on an exasperated sigh before heading back into the restaurant.

A large raindrop splattered on the tip of my nose, jerking me back to my senses and reminding me I had somewhere to be. I walked past the restaurant and continued down the block, counting my steps as I moved closer and closer to my building.

After another few minutes of walking with my eyes glued to the sidewalk, desperate to avoid running into another senseless scenario that made me lose faith in humanity, the chestnut colored walls of my workplace came into view. I tightened my grip on my briefcase and was just about to reach for the door handle when an unusual sound caught my attention. I turned, trying to locate the source of it. It was far away and coming from somewhere in the park across the street.

I was shocked by the strength of my sudden curiosity, but conflicted by my schedule. I glanced at my watch- work started in less than five minutes. Though I prided myself on my punctuality, an impulsive side of me that I didn’t recognize decided that the sound was more important. I turned and headed towards the park.

The sound grew louder and I realized that it was singing. The most wonderful chorus of voices filled my head, their music as thick and sweet as molasses. I followed the merry tune until I came upon a group of teenagers. They looked much too young to be producing such an incredible sound. I stopped in my tracks, and found myself mesmerized by the passion they put into their words.

I didn’t recognize the song they sang, but the way their bodies swayed to the rhythm and their faces beamed in blissful content made it clear that the lyrics meant a lot to them. Their voices were bursting with the hope and happiness that they sang about. The melodies and harmonies complemented each other in a way that left me completely entranced. Their music, put simply, was the most marvelous thing I had ever heard.

I wondered who these kids were. There were twelve of them, all dressed in brightly colored coats and boots that matched their joyous faces. The more reasonable part of me that usually had control of my senses would question why these kids weren’t in school, or why they were left unsupervised in the city park. But there was something so incredibly hopeful about them and how happy they looked, that I was rendered speechless.

The song reached its heartening conclusion, and the silence that followed was almost as mesmerizing as the song itself. Someone erupted in enthusiastic applause, and I realized that it was me, their only audience member, who was celebrating their talented performance. The teens looked at me and smiled, their giggles and prideful expressions warming my heart to such an extent that I wondered if my chest was on fire.

My eyes fell on a donation box at the chorus’ feet, which I eagerly approached, fumbling through my pockets to locate my wallet. The girl closest to the box smiled and lifted it up to me, her bright pink coat slick with rain. “Donations go towards protecting our environment and fighting climate change!” she chimed.

I couldn’t fight the smile that spread across my face. These teens had rekindled something inside of me, with their music and their generosity.

The girl’s eyes widened as I slipped a fifty dollar bill into the bin. “Wow- thank you so much!” she squealed, before turning to show her peers their earnings.

At the sight of my donation, the group erupted into cheers, their exhilaration another beautiful song in itself. I watched for a moment before turning around and leaving them to their celebration.

I headed back to work, my steps slower and more purposeful. I felt like I was floating, relishing in the hope and optimism the encounter had provided me with. I found myself humming what parts of their happy melody remained in my memory as it started to snow.