I lose sight of the two-lane mountain road on every westbound curve. The fire of the Arizona sunset is broken by trees but still blinding, relentless in its beauty and power. I drive too fast, taking corners like I was in my old Nissan Z instead of an overloaded Toyota pickup. I flirt with the gravel on the shoulder then hug the yellow line that protects me from oncoming trucks that never come.
Mingus Ah-Um tests my cheap speakers as “Boogie Stop Shuffle” goads me, faster and faster. I am invincible, immortal, indifferent. Every blind turn teases me as tree branches caress the car and my tires cry around curves.
I am alone. The life I knew for 19 years is behind me. On the other side of this forest is an opera singer I think I love and a city I think I want to live in. Tomorrow I will learn I’m wrong about both, and the repercussions will echo for years. Today, however, it is only me and the sun and the music and this winding forest road. I whip around corners toward the future with my life packed into cardboard boxes as Mingus urges me forward, faster, faster, always faster.
“Personal Stories” is a series of posts about artists, albums, concerts, and other experiences that permanently changed our relationships with music.
This is so far from my experience, but it speaks to me so clearly. It is Springsteen and Kerouac and maybe a bit of my own youthful dreams that not only remained unfulfilled, but unattempted.
Thank you. And it’s funny how life works. We took very different paths and attempted very different things, yet here we are, almost 20 years since that chance passing in a hallway where I overheard you making a comment about Meat Loaf. It makes me grateful for all the things I attempted to achieve but didn’t.