Another Radio

I've been in California for a couple of weeks now, ringing in the New Year, winding down from graduate school, and rediscovering my home state before heading back to the desert to start my work life. This has resulted in an unusual amount of driving, of which I am thankful for and rejuvenated by time and again. The longest trek was 391 miles from Santa Barbara to Vallejo. My second leg has taken me from the Sierra Nevada mountains to the San Mateo Coast, near Half Moon Bay.

I probably spend an inordinate amount of energy and exercise some remarkably careless driving when deciding what songs should be playing on the radio. It's an evolving art form. When I was a kid, my brothers and I would sit in the backseat and dive forward to dial in the perfect station. One cross country trip in particular involved 80s Secret Love songs. I have a distinct memory of hearing the song "Never Going to Let You Go" by Sergio Mendes and imagining an entire video in my head while spying a tour bus on the Interstate.

By adolescence, roadtrips from Northern to Southern California would involve a precise selection of cassette tapes for either the car radio or a cheap Sony Walkman knockoff. My favorites were Def Leppard's Pyromania, Sparks In Outer Space, and Thriller, of course.

Now I fumble with an iPod while simultaneously trying to keep any eye on the road.

My favorite roadtrip moment so far has been playing Grub Dog & the Amazing Sweethearts God Damned Rock and Roll as I drove through Monterey County. Grub Dog used to host an open mic I regularly played at Old Ironsides in Sacramento back in 2001 or so. He was and remains the genuine article when it comes to rock and roll - played some of the loudest fucking shows I've ever been to and when he drank he played and performed even better. It was interesting to trek north on Hwy 101 and marry the songs to the landscape. I imagined Grub as an awkward teen, looking out at the farms, wondering when he was going to break the hell out of dodge. I've always like that CD, but fell in love with it all over again.

My second favorite moment was the Fleetwood Mac portion of a roadtrip, passing through San Francisco. Gypsy came on the the speakers and I held still momentarily understanding things were just perfect, even just for a few bars.



In the end, I wonder if I'll ever be able to separate the road from the music on the radio. I took a few breaks as I drove through post-holiday traffic today, opting instead to listen to football. But there is this tendency for me to want to set moments to a soundtrack. I wonder if I think when the right song comes along at the right time, that the moment might not pass. Or when I hear the song again, I can come back to Salinas or San Francisco or Grass Valley and never have to leave.