It might have been okay, but then they released Hanson.

When I was running errands yesterday, I had my iPod plugged in in my car and the windows down.  I don't know why there's something exhilarating about doing that, whether it's blasting your favorite song or exorcising road rage with something bass-heavy and angry.  It reminded me of a time before I got my driver's license. 

I was one of the youngest people in my class so all my friends were already riding around, proclaiming their love for Dave Matthews by turning up Under the Table and Dreaming as they peeled out of the school parking lot.  Of course we had fun driving around town together, but I longed for control of the wheel.  I wanted to blast Jagged Little Pill whether I was with friends or not!  My greatest teenage fear at that time was that there would be no more good songs to play by the time I got my license.  Literally, the music world would run out of material and I would be left to play the same old Gin Blossoms on repeat for the rest of my life.  How tragic to lose the joy of driving before I even had it.

Well, duh, that didn't happen.  I am happy to report that musicians have not given up the passion to create, that there are yet thousands of chord combinations to be discovered.  And I still listen to some of those '90s songs with the volume turned up because nostalgia is an excellent passenger.

Three Teenage Girls: 1956

Three teenage girls in tight red sleeveless blouses and black Capri pants   

And colorful headscarves secured in a knot to their chins   

Are walking down the hill, chatting, laughing,   

Cupping their cigarettes against the light rain,   

The closest to the road with her left thumb stuck out   

Not looking at the cars going past.   

Every Friday night to the dance, and wet or dry   

They get where they’re going, walk two miles or get a ride,   

And now the two-door 1950 Dodge, dark green   

Darkening as evening falls, stops, they nudge   

Each other, peer in, shrug, two scramble into the back seat,   

And the third, the boldest, famous   

For twice running away from home, slides in front with the man   

Who reaches across her body and pulls the door shut.

 

-Steve Orlen