I still remember my first pink sparkle pzazz Daddy’s Little Princess bumper sticker. When I sometimes shared my car with my dad, he hated it. Since then, I got over the bumper sticker craze. For one thing, I don’t want people cutting me off or tailgating me because they voted for the other presidential candidate. Maybe it comes with being an introvert, but I’m too private to display information like that to the whole world.
At this point, you may be rolling your eyes. What harm could possibly come from a bumper sticker? Well, it’s one of the things that fascinates me about language, whether it be the written word or family-hieroglyphics and grumpy cat window dressings.
There’s more to the window dressings and bumper stickers than you might think. You’re telling people where your kids go to school, possibly what sport or musical instrument they play. You could be telling people that you live alone because you’re divorced or your husband is in the armed forces. They could bond with you over the illness you’re passionate about signaled by the color of the cancer ribbon.
The only bumper sticker I’m willing to have on my car now is grumpy cat. What about you? Is your car a moving billboard of your life or a blank slate?