We are back in the city of pavement and sunglasses, and the congestion, smog and snobbery is just barely balanced by the fact that there are people and food we love here. Not to mention REAL FREAKING music stations.
Traveling across the south was awesome, (really!,) but the incessant Christian programing got to be a bit much. Such as the time when we scanned through all local stations and found two talking about Jesus, four singing to him, a lone country station and a station in Spanish that also turned out to be exhorting us to “canta a Jesus.”
Ducky and I missed our music from the get-go. In spite of getting adapters for my phone to the cassette player, various factors made using the thing impossible. Bumps, battery issues, overheating and mysterious dead air moments all played their part in our losing access to my carefully curated selection.
Our radio display burned out sometime in 2006 so when we hit search we never know what we’re going to get. Since we can’t look for any suggested stations directly, we tend to hit the “program” button whenever we find something decent. This means that we have to redo each one about every 600 miles or so. Fun times, especially if one gets lost that was actually good. “Noooooo!!!” We both shouted once after losing a particularly good one coming out of Shreveport. We spent the next 100 miles riding in grumpy silence each blaming the other for messing up.
There was practically weeping if we came across a “Classic rock” station. Especially if certain songs came on: “I’m a Coowwwboy, on this steel horse I ride, I’m wanted (WANTED) Dead Or Aliiiiive!!” (Ducky and I have a rule that this song is blasted and sung along with whenever possible. This rule also applies to “Life is a Highway” “Sweet Home Alabama” and most popular Queen songs.) For the most part though, we had religion, country, and dead air to accompany us.
It is truly a wonderful thing to hit scan and have the thing stop every 2 seconds or so. The sun is shining down, there are honest to goodness palm trees, and the sky is that perfect shade of So-Cal blue.
Of course there is a soundtrack for the city. There must be, it’s like a natural law.
Thanks for the tunes, City of Angels, we missed this about you.