Sometimes, after a long day at work, what really soothes my mind is jamming out to some classic rock on my very short drive home. So last evening, with my windows rolled down, I tuned into 100.3 The Sound to find some Led Zeppelin. And my body said ahhhhhh.
My drive is so short that I usually can only hear about 2.5 songs during my trek. As I neared my house, it started. “Standing in the rain, with his head hung low. He couldn’t get a ticket. It was a sold out show.” Yes, it was the epic crowd pleaser, Foreigner’s Juke Box Hero. Naturally, as anyone would, I cranked that sucker.
And then I pulled into my parking spot. Being the lover of food that I am, all I could think of at that moment was making myself the (incredibly rockstar) tomato mozzarella salad I had planned to eat for dinner. I turned off the car and made my way into my home, not allowing Juke Box Hero to play out like I probably should have.
Morning came, and in my usual rush to get to work on time, I scurried to my car, threw it in reverse, and then paused. How could this be? What song was blaring from my speakers? Is it possible? Yes, Juke Box Hero was playing again. And it wasn’t at the beginning, it was at pretty much at the exact moment where I had left off.
I was tripped out. I blared it for the remaining few minutes it played as I peeled down the streets of Burbank en route to another day at work.
Lately I look for meaning in pretty much everything that happens to me. What lesson could I take from this late 70s/early 80s hair band related freak incident? Does this mean that something or someone in the heavens above is looking out for me? That some intangible force is helping me along in the world? Sure, why not? As a person who has newly vowed to see all glasses as half full, I’ve got to soak up the hope in whatever form it presents itself to me.
So if that apocalypse I’ve been obsessing over reigns down upon these jagged mountains and great plains we call our homeland, I shall rise above the rubble, triumphant, with one guitar, with stars in my eyes, and be a juke box hero.
…Or my car is turning into a Stephen King Christine car and we’re all doomed.