(Wow. My Virginian just came flying out there, totally unbidden. That was unexpected. hmph!)
Okay, so, I’m fairly certain that other, more polished bloggers actually plan out their posts…make a concerted effort to give their readers balanced, substantive content delivered in a smooth, coherent and delightfully deft manner. I’m also fairly certain that if I were to try that approach, my doc would have to treble my Xanax prescription.
Nope, as if you hadn’t noticed, my mode d’emploi is more of a “fly by the seat of the pants” approach. And only occasionally do I actually know whose pants they are. I have SO many ideas for posts, but I normally discount the majority of them because the way I’ve arrived at a particular topic is so convoluted that to explain it would exhaust my patience before I’d even get to the good part. But, on the off-chance that some of you actually think like I do, I thought I’d take you on the ride with me tonight.
So, this morning after I dropped Liam off at Pre-School, I was driving home, right? Well, remember I live at the beach…and while I was taking the bridge over an inlet I looked out over the Bay and saw the sun glistening on the water, the GORGEOUS blue of the sky and the breeze lifting whitecaps ever so gently in the surf…man, it was just the kind of day that you want to crank some tunes, roll the windows down and go on a road trip!
Immediately “road trip” made me think of REM’s entire “Murmur” CD, and trips back and forth from college in my little tan Toyota Tercel hatchback, and of that one trip my freshman year when I caught a ride with Barney McIntyre in his vintage BMW, which made me think of the Smiths – specifically “Bigmouth Strikes Again”…but then I quickly digressed into the theme from “Deliverance” because I remembered how Barney’s car broke down in the podunk little town two hours from home and how we had to ride the rest of the way in the cab of a tow truck with a man who had clearly never made the acquaintance of deodorant, toothpaste OR a barber who had the ability to style hair in anything other than a mullet. Then courtesy of the mullet memory, I made the mental jump to Meatloaf’s anthemic “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” which NATURALLY segued to Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” and the time my buddy Kathy Y. and I were coming home from Annapolis, MD (trip to USNA to plan my wedding to that other guy I married first, dammitall). Kathy is a teacher, which made me think of my Mom (who was ALSO a teacher), and how much I miss her (especially with Mother’s Day coming up and all), and the time on a trip up to my Grandparents’ house in Watkins Glen, NY when I was about six…we had to stop off in some tiny town in Pennsylvania to find this old-time drugstore where Mom got a bottle of “Coke Syrup” for me because Dad’s driving through the Allegheny Mountains like a bat out of hell (temporary throwback to Meatloaf) had made my stomach do flip-flops of epic proportion, and she swore that Coke Syrup was the magic elixir that would prevent me from blowing like Krakatoa. And, like the memory of many a defining, riveting childhood event is wont to do, thinking of the taste of that nasty syrup immediately propelled me back to that moment, and I remembered EXACTLY what was playing on the radio in the old Green Dodge Station Wagon when Mom’s Miracle Cure was proven decidedly ineffective…
It was Looking Glass: Brandy.
Sooooooooo it was clear to me that I had to put up a playlist of songs that I shall ALWAYS connect with long car trips with my parents. Perfectly logical thought progression, yes?
Now, my parents were not paradigms of “hip”. They were 35 and 36 when I – the last of four, and by a BIG margin in sibling age spans – arrived on the scene. Did they listen to anybody cool like Johnny Cash, Townes Van Zandt, John Prine? Not hardly. Frankly, it’s a wonder I survived those Paul Anka/Wayne Newton/ Helen Reddy riddled years.
Matter of fact…now that I think of it…this could explain ALOT. *sigh*
So, once you’ve finished regaling in the shame that I harbor in knowing that I can STILL sing every word to every one of the songs below, tell me: What evil YOU were subjected to on Parental Road Trips?
(Extra points if you can top the Coke Syrup Incident…)