THE 30-DAY SONG CHALLENGE Day 05 - A song that reminds you of someone

Day 05 - A song that reminds you of someone


Every song reminds me of someone...well, maybe not every song, but on my epic playlist of favoritest songs, every one has someone or sometimes multiple someones attached to it.  So for this post, I'll just pick the one with a favorite story.


Back to high school everyone! And AWAY WE GO!





It was June of 1998.  I was 15 years old, heading into my sophomore year.  I was careening down the interstate, headed north in a baby blue 1991 Ford Explorer with four of the cutest girls in the rising senior class.  We were going to Birmingham to the Oak Mountain Amphitheatre to see Third Eye Blind with Our Lady Peace and Eve 6.  I had just recently pulled the slickest move of my young life: convincing one of said ladies that she should throw social norms to the wind and date a guy two years younger.  This shit was unheard of at Andy High!  I think I used this song to help convince her...YEAYA...the 90's kicked ass!


We had the radio full blast and were jamming out for the two and a half hours it took to get from Andytown to Pelham.  The girls were all excited for 3EB.  Semi Charmed Life was just starting to make it's move from cult classic to full on 90's phenomenon.  I however, being cool and all, was in it for Our Lady Peace.  Their song 4am was a favorite of mine (it was actually a heavy contender for yesterday's category).  Eve 6 was an unknown at the time, but since we were going to see them too, I picked up their cd on the way out of town so we would know more than just the one song that was on the radio.  


We popped in the cd around Wetumpka, AL.  First to the single, Inside Out, then we just let it play.  By the time we got to Open Road Song (the 5th track...jesus, how do I remember this shit), we were hooked!  For the next 30 minutes, the song was on repeat as loud as it would go. The peddle was to the metal and that explorer engine screamed, ripping a hole into the lazy Alabama summer afternoon.


As we turned off the interstate, we turned down the volume and started concentrating on making it to the venue.  Soon however, we noticed smoke coming through the AC ducts. We stopped at a red light and all of a sudden the engine was billowing white plumes of smoke.  Everyone was freaking out.  We turned off the car in the middle of a giant intersection, got out, and pushed the car to the nearest gas station...probably 100 yards away.  Being the only "man" on the trip, I was tasked to figure out what was wrong with the car.  Problem was, I barely knew how to drive at that point let alone figure out what the hell was on fire.


I went inside the gas station and approached a guy wearing a blue mechanics shirt with cut off sleeves.  He was crack skinny and concealing a ratty mullet under a dirty trucker hat.  A pretty significant portion of his clothes were covered in layers upon layers of oil stains so I figured he would probably at least be able to narrow down the problem for us.  


I almost immediately regretted coming up to him.  After I finished explaining the situation, he took one look at me (flippantly) and then ogled the four girls (hungrily) and said, "Yep, I can lookat'er ferya."


He sauntered out of the cool gas station over to the car and popped the hood.  Smoke and steam escaped in a blistering burst but he seemed nonplussed by the heat.  He pulled out a (mostly) red, grease soaked rag and wiped the sweat from his brow, then bent over the engine and stared for a solid 5 minutes. He didn't move.  He didn't blink  He didn't say a word.


We all exchanged furtive glances at one another as we braced ourselves for the worst until suddenly he looked up and addressed me.  "Welllp, whatchoo got hur is a busted belt...it's burnt up."  


Now I pride myself in speaking about 16 different dialects in redneck, but this one was thick.  "Excuse me?" I replied.


"Burnt up." He said, looking at me as if I were the one from another planet.


"Oh...kay..." I said.  Slowly...evenly. "Can we fix it?"


"Naw, shop's closed fertha evenin'...butch'll be fine, juss use the backup."


The five of us in unison... "wha?"


"The backup...all them ol' ferds havem...call it tha 'fer sixty'"


again in unison... "what?"


"Tha 'fer sixty'." He's grinning now...all 17 of his teeth (each in it's own level of decay) shining down on us baby yuppies. "Lissen, ya'll juss rawl all fer a them ol' winders daan an run 'bout sixty daan tha highwee."  He was slapping his knee as his joke finally sunk in on all of us...the encounter ended with him explaining we had "burnt up" a belt that ran the AC unit and that as long as we kept the AC off, the car was fully functional.  


We went on and had a great time at the show.  Afterwards, we employed that 4/60 backup AC all the way to Tuscaloosa where we spent the night with one of the girl's sisters...


But that's a whole 'nother story.  


I'll never forget that helpful old redneck.  His laid back demeanour, ridiculous accent and filthy ensemble revealed, to me, a calculated creepiness.  I've wondered sometimes if that was a freak occurrence or if he hung out there daily, waiting for distressed travellers to assist.  I've made up so many stories in my head about that guy's day to day existence! Sometimes he's an angel, sometimes he's an axe murderer.  Whatever the real case may be, that day he was a savior...and every time I hear Open Road Song and think of "putting the pedal to the floor," I always pause and think of the consequences...I never want my AC to be "burnt up!" ever again...he may not be there next time.  :)