In front of me - a car with three youths; each had his hair cut in a short Mohawk. Two in the front seat, one in the back. None looked older than twenty.

Approaching the light, the one riding shotgun rolled his window down and stuck his head and shoulders completely out the window. He was a kid of about fifteen. He tried to reach over to touch the car beside him, driven by a lady of about forty. I caught a glimpse of the woman as she turned her head suddenly and her car veered slightly and then corrected.

At the light, the youths rolled to a stop matching their speed with the lady's car. The same one stuck his head out the window again, raised his hand to his mouth, made a vee with his fingers, and flicked his tongue between his fingers at her. She appeared not to notice.

The lone youth in the backseat shook his head and shuffled over to the seat behind the driver and lost himself in the view out the other side of the car.