Week 9: Pump Up the (car) Jam
I love driving and I love music so it should go without saying that driving while listening to music goes together for me like peanut butter and jelly or smoking cigarettes and binge drinking for others. Maybe it’s because both driving and music are so liberating but there is something about the combination of both that is unrivaled.
Down back here.) When I got my license in 1998, my grandparents sent me their 1986 Nissan Maxima in burgundy red. They lived in Miami Beach and the sun and salt had given her a worn look by rusting the hood of the wine-colored sedan but that was no matter to me. To me, it just gave her character. More character, I thought, than the popular Mitsubishi Eclipse in dark green that everyone was driving around that year. To me, there was no comparison. But I digress. The point is, to me she was a beautiful specimen because she meant freedom.
I wasn’t the kind of kid who wanted that much freedom, persay. I wasn’t trying to move out of my house the moment I turned 18. In fact, I wouldn’t leave – except for college – until I was 29. And even then it was a bit of a struggle. No, the kind of freedom I was looking for had boundaries. The kind of freedom I was looking for looked like me in a car with the windows down and the sunroof open and music. Loud music. Music playing so loud I couldn’t hear myself singing it. Well, it kind of looked like this:
Because of this, it would be dishonest to say that “this one” is my car jam. There. are. too. many. I could try and list some for you but the list would too soon get out of hand. It would get away from me like a slippery,wet fish on the edge of a boiling pot.
So instead what I will give you is this story. My first blog post. Ever. (I told you… I’m Going
Down back.) The pinnacle of jamming out in my car. Is it the drums that start off the song? Or the Jersey Boardwalk musicality that Bruce is soooo good at pulling off? Or the simple and repetitive words that make you want to scream and drive? Truly, I couldn’t answer you. All I know is that this song, a car, and windows rolled down… whew, explosive.
“I don’t think it’s coincidence that it’s a Bruce Springsteen song,” said this Jersey girl. “I think like most stories it’s full circle. We always go back to the beginning. We always come home.”
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