SJ Rozan

Especially when it’s incomprehensible. Parked my block one behind the other are six polished-to-within-an-inch-of-their-lives brand-new Buick Cutlasses in six different but quite adult and serious dark colors. They’re still wearing their Michigan dealer plates; clearly they arrived by truck. Why? My first thought was, to film a commercial, but there’s no sign of film crews anywhere in the neighborhood. As swag, the grand prizes in some event, some awards ceremony? But six of them? And it’s Tuesday, who does big ceremonies on a Tuesday? No one seems to be watching them, keeping them from the vicissitudes of New York traffic: cabbies, skateboarders, dogs peeing on their shiny tires. Life is just going on around them. What gives?