Heatwave’s “The Groove Line,” was playing on the radio. The sun was out; the water was blue, and the mountains wrapped around. The road stretched and she was rolling. Dancing in her car as she drove home, she had four hours left. Four hours to be home for an entire week – and she was giddy. The song bounced off the windows of her car and she danced as she drove, squirming around in the seat. Her shoulders sprang up and down; her head bobbed and swirled. She performed any move that struck her fancy, carefree and excited to be headed home. Alone in her world of revelry, she pointed, drummed, and tapped as much as the road and traffic would allow. She was one with the wheel, and traffic was light. She was a Supreme; now a Pip. Meanwhile, a bored teenager in the car ahead used his cell phone to capture her dance of glee for all posterity. Five minutes later it was posted to the web, and in the space of two hours it went viral. When she arrived at the house – she was on “cloud nine . . .” and the evening news.