And he says… I bet you’re singing the next line, aren’t you? Yeah. You are. I know you are. .
I had to do it. I had to. It was Golden Earring, man! Golden Earring! Screw Elton John, It’s your song.
That just happens sometimes, doesn’t it? You hear a song and suddenly you’re back in that 1980 Toyota Celica with one of your best mates, in the middle of a Michigan winter. The inside of the car smells like the boxed up pan pizza you couldn’t finish at Pizza Hut. You have the sun roof open, the heat blasting, and the stereo as loud as you can make it. Golden Earring’s playing Twilight Zone. You two are singing along, playing bass, drums, and twanging like you’re a guitar.
Nearly 25 years later, you hear that song again. And you’re still mates with that guy who used to sumo wrestle and drop by your house when you weren’t home because your mom always made him something to eat.
So hats off to the kid next door, the one who knew all the words to WHAM’s Bad Boys (doot doot doot do doot hoo hoo!), the glossy haired girl with the travellin’ tape, a road trip to Chicago, and Black Coffee In Bed, the curly redhead, her Honda Civic, and Lone Justice’s Shelter.
I think of you all. Thanks for the memories.
Now I feel like pizza. McDonald’s Fries. Or breadsticks and iced tea.