Madam, there's a tree on your roof

Ah, the universality of humor.

I remember telling Nomadita about my Dad months ago. I don't remember why, maybe we passed a car with a bike on it. Or a piece of furniture.

My father had a habit. Passing a car with a Christmas tree tied to the roof, or a bike on a roof rack, or skis, or with a huge board sticking out the window, he'd inevitably tell my brother and me:

Roll down your window, will you? And tell that lady she has a tree on her roof. Poor thing. Big tree, too.

Hey lady, there's a Christmas tree on your roof!! A TREE!! On your ROOF!

Yeh, I know, we'll hope it's not genetic.
I never knew whether to be mortified or amused. Mostly I just laughed as hard as I am this morning, alone in Salamanca with my cafe con leche.

So, back to universality.
What happened to Nomadita and me in tiny Cabezuela del Valle in Extremadura the other day, during our excursion to see the cherry blossoms?

Well, as we slowly and carefully pulled the car out of the last driveable street before Cabezuela turns into her narrow judería, an older man began to gesture at us. Vigorously. He said something we couldn't hear, then said it again, while continuing to gesture. I rolled down the window, he spoke, and Nomadita fell into a gleeful fit of Spanish laughter.

Took the americana a few minutes to get it. I was sure he was using some colloquial expression I didn't know. What did he want to tell us? What was wrong?

Picture a lovely white haired old man in a cap, smiling ear to ear, a sparkle in his eye:

¡Las ruedas! ¡Van dando vueltas! ¡Chicas, las ruedas van dando vueltas!

Rough translation:

Your wheels, girls!!!! They're turning!!!

Hey lady, your wheels are turning. In circles.