He Even Had a White Button-Down Shirt On

I was waiting on the ramp that leads into the bridge this morning for the cars ahead of me to creep a little faster. My windows were down and the radio was low and I thought I heard a clap. I didn't register that someone was, in fact, clapping his hands, until about the third time he did it. Looking around, I located the source: a small, elderly Jewish man with a very long and very full white beard. He sat clapping his hands a few times--I'm not sure what to because he had no music on--in the driver's seat of a pearly white Cadillac Escalade complete with mega car-bling hanging from the rearview mirror. I smiled at him because, well, how could I not?