If you follow RATG for technical posts, skip this one. It’s one of my rare, philosophical posts.
I was driving to work this morning and Van Morrison was on the radio. It was one of those moments when you hear a song and are transported back in time to a distinct memory of hearing the same song at some defining moment in your life. Back in 2001, my then girlfriend, now wife, Mrs. Wonderful and I drove cross-country, camping our way to Mexico and back. As we crossed Texas, you could see the wheat fields dancing in the wind when a storm blew in. Crossing the flat plains, the sky darkened and then let loose with wind and a punishing rain. And Van Morrison came on the radio.
I could tell you anything about that moment–any detail you could ask for. The sound of the straight-six in my old F-150, straining against the wind. The smell of fresh rain and wet earth. Moving back and forth between the smooth, hard shift lever–dropping down into 4th gear to climb a hill into the wind–and the soft, tender hand of Mrs. Wonderful. The color of the sky as it turned orange, red, purple, and then black. Driving into the storm at that moment–it’s as vivid in my mind as if it was happening right at this moment. And despite the storm, I was so incredibly happy to be where I was–and so happy to be with Mrs. Wonderful.
There’s another tune called The Song Remembers When, that includes the following lyrics:
We were rolling through the Rockies, we were up above the clouds, when a station out of Jackson played that song…
And it seemed to fit the moment, and the moment seemed to freeze, when we turned the music up and sang along…
And there was a God in heaven, and the world made perfect sense
We were young and were in love, and we were easy to convince.
We were headed straight for Eden, it was just around the bend.
And though I had forgotten all about it…the song remembers when.
That’s where I’m at. The song brought it all back to me–the perfection of that moment in my life, and the absolute joy of where I was at.
In many ways, I feel as though I’m driving into a storm again. I can see the clouds on the horizon. Fortunately, I’m still holding the hand of Mrs. Wonderful. I’m no longer in the F-150, but I think my response then should be my response now. I’m just going to tap-tap-tap the brifter, drop a few gears, get up out of the saddle and charge into the storm.