I’m calmly sipping a Vieux Carre, or at least a semblance of one (no Benedictine), having been enveloped in a haze of nostalgia.
My car was pelted by hailstones a few months ago, incurring a few (or many) divots in the process. Normally I wouldn’t worry about it – I’d just let it ride then take a bath when I eventually got rid of the car. One of the guys at work kept peer pressuring me into doing something about it and I filed a claim with my insurance company. (Gee, can’t imagine why my rates just went up)
I rolled it into the shop and picked up my rental. My rental (no great shakes, a Chevy Cruze) has XM radio. I can’t figure out how to plug my mp3 player into the car, so I was stuck. This car had 7 miles on it when I got it so I had to program the radio. I found 80’s at 8 and 90’s at 9.
Gawd, what a trip back to my early teens.
My former 80’s nostalgia was firmly based in the things that I missed, or the music I really liked. My haze today was prompted by all the things I remembered. All the bouncy 80’s pop…..minimal guitars. It’s a wonder how I ever started playing guitar much less keeping with it for any length of time. Each weirdo, bouncy, drum machine led tunes pinged my brain with memories of a lot of different things. It was weird associating such a random assortment of songs with my life. Not the ones I jammed to (air guitar), but the ones that played in the background of my post-childhood.
I don’t have much else to add. Except I really want a ’63 Buick Riviera.
