Saturday, January 23, 2016

Fast Cars and Freedom

Growing up, my life was more like Creeping Cars and Curfews because my parents were the over-protective, God-fearing type. As much faith as they said they walked in, my Mom was always convinced that I was going to die in a fiery crash, or choke on a spaghetti noodle and be lost to this world tragically and forever. Dad helped out by always accompanying me to buy cars, ensuring that I had the slowest one on the road. I always tried to tell them that you could be sitting in your living room, hiding from the world and if it was your time to go, a plane could come flying in and crush you, and that you could no more cause it to happen (unless you're the suicidal type) than you could run away from it if your number was up. The spaghetti noodle would know where to find you if it was your time to go.

Even so, I still found my way into trouble more often than not, but I learned how to keep it hidden and somehow by grace itself never found my way into any trouble that I couldn't get out of thus far. So I have had my share of faster rides, but never quite caught the bug for speed. My addiction became more the risk of getting your heart crushed than your body.

Yes I have always been in love with love.

Now, my music tastes, they vary. My iPod playlists are eclectic and then some. While I am not the biggest fan of country music, I will occasionally visit if I hear something that evokes emotion or brings back a memory. I am drawn in first by chords and notes that touch my soul, and then the words that ignite my heart.

Though my luck in love has been primarily ill-fated, I still dream and hold out hope that one day someone will come along that expresses themselves like the music that I so escape to when I am hurting.

These days, it is so rare for someone to even tell the truth or express what's in their heart, much less compare what they see in you, or their affections for you to some mental oil painting that lights you aflame.

For instance, the following is from the well-known Rascall Flatts song:

Starin' at you takin' off your makeup
Wondering why you even put it on
I know you think you do but, baby, you don't need it
Wish that you could see what I see it when it's gone
I see a dust trail following an old red Nova
Baby blue eyes, your head on my shoulder
Wait, baby, don't move, right there it is
T-shirt hanging off a dogwood branch
That river was cold, but we gave love a chance
Yeah, yeah, to me
You don't look a day over fast cars and freedom
That sunset river bank first time feeling
Yeah, smile and shake your head as if you don't believe me
I'll just sit right here and let you take me back
I'm on that gravel road, look at me
On my way to pick you up; you're standing on the front porch
Looking just like that, remember that?
I see a dust trail following an old red Nova
Baby blue eyes, your head on my shoulder
Wait, baby, don't move, right there it is
T-shirt hanging off a dogwood branch
That river was cold, but we gave love a chance
Yeah, yeah, to me
You don't look a day over fast cars and freedom
That sunset river bank first time feeling...

Now, I have never had anyone write a song for me (not that I know of), but if I did, I don't think I could resist a man who equated seeing me take my make-up off (after assuring me that I don't need it at all) to a dust trail, an old muscle car, my eyes, my affections and obviously profound firsts and feelings that captured his manly, cold steel heart and transformed it into the fiery crash of a love that ran so hot it could have been the death of our hearts, but giving it a chance and taking that risk because he saw it was worth it. 

Yes, when that spaghetti noodle of love comes calling, there is not much you can do to escape it, you're most likely going to strangle on it and die, but if you should somehow survive, you might get lucky and pass the test of time, hopefully not looking like what you've been through. Some of you may just have to settle for looking not a day over some mid-sized, normal speed sport utility vehicle. As for me? I'll stay not a day over Fast Cars and Freedom, thank you.




Then again, maybe I am just a dreamer, like my Dad always said with my head too far in the clouds. But hey, I like the view.

2 comments:

Graham Hunt said...

I wrote a song about my wife - she never knew until at a gig in London (Four Dinners was there) I announced it was for her in the intro. :-) She has it as her ringtone on her phone :-)

Bizarro Aunt Jackie said...

That's really sweet... I dig it.