“Mija, ese hombre me esta mirando,” my mom said as we sat in my car at a red light. “Porque me esta mirando? Me pone nerviosa.”
She was getting more and more agitated, so I finally turned to see the source of her angst. A man was, in fact, looking at us . . . and waving.
“Mom, he drives a Mini Cooper too,” I said, ” Sometimes we greet each other because our cars are so cute.”
She just shook her head. “Por eso ando en el camíon.”