The Person I'm Next To Thinks Radiohead Is Correct

I'm next to this guy. We are at a red light. He is mid twenties, has brown curly hair and a black t-shirt. He has a soul patch. It is one of those long thick pieces of facial hair, so that even though it is growing from a small part of his face, it seems to be huge. He has big ears too.
His car is the result of careless driving. Dents and dings everywhere. There are different colors of paint left on his car from the various accidents. So you can assume that he has ran into many cars, not just one strange accident. He must have some skill at operating a vehicle because his car is still running after running into dozens of other cars.
He has his windows down, and he is playing Radiohead's Fake Plastic Trees, very, very loud. Loud enough I can hear the words exactly. I'm at least a little bit of a fan so I am enjoying it, but not like this guy is enjoying it. He isn't singing along or dancing in his seat. Instead he is agreeing with the song, nodding at the end of every line, sometimes exclaiming, "Yes." He has the glassy eyed look of a zealot across his face. He reminds me of a some true believer in a revival tent, just before he collapses and begins to speak in tongues. I'm just waiting for this guy to start convulsing and offering up gifts of gold and myrrh.
I'll never know if he does, the light is green.

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