I practiced my smile in the elevator this morning. That's probably all you need to know about how I anticipate my day proceeding. And although I haven't done it yet today, I often practice small pleasantries—mumbling to myself as I am walking from my car to my office. My hope is that people seeing or overhearing this will assume I am on a phone call with a Bluetooth device. Probably not the case, but it makes me feel a little less conspicuous.
My car is my main go-to location for most of these types of things. I use it for confrontation preparation, anticipated angry rants, white lie finessing, mental grocery shopping, meditation, commenting aloud to the OPB/PBS reporters on their daily news stories, character and story line work, self-affirmations and belting out lyrics (usually misheard, and almost exclusively from the chorus) to songs on the local pop music station.
I think for people who spend any time alone in their car, it takes on more functions than just transportation. It is a kind of safe sanctuary. It doesn't matter if you drive a hybrid or an SUV, if your interior is leather, pleather or fabric, if you have a car seat or a wheelchair, or lacrosse gear in the back—when you are alone in your car you do some thing(s) (it might be a small thing) that you don't do in public, or even around your family and friends.
Some people even get a false sense of privacy and assume no one can see them when they are in their car. This is not the case. When I see someone picking their nose, making weird faces into the mirror, stuffing a messy burrito in their mouth, etc., I smile a little and then promptly forget—because we are all in this together.