driving over to amy's parents house this afternoon, we flicked through the fm channels on the radio to come full stop at a clearly defined note tearing from the guitar of jimmy page. the song was in its last two frames, then to a dj interlude "we are in the middle of a led zeppelin marathon weekend," he announced with great fervor (as one would expect from a dj at a radio station that would play led zeppelin, and a led zeppelin marathon at that.
zeppelin reminds me of the 15-yr old boy who still occupies a part of my brain. that part of me screamed out on this beautiful 67degree and sunny sunday in baltimore. i hit the robert plant falsetto and surprised more than just amy by recalling the lyrics word for word, jammed on the air guitar to the utmost of my out-of-practice ability, and flashed devil horns, yes devil horns at others on the roadway, all as i danced in the passenger seat crooning with the warmth of a rock-n-roll-a-bye that i had not intently listened to in years.
the zep fever i felt today, reminded me of a period of time before i could drive a car; before i had hairy underarms; before i had bills to pay, before i had a girlfriend, let alone a fiancee; before i had known much of anything in this world, i knew these songs.
the ocean was timed nearly perfect with our time to destination, as it petered out moments before amy extinguished the engine, and the subaru purr stopped. my smile lingers on, as does the modestly wholesome spirit of that 15-yr old boy firing through the synaptic network.
1 comment:
Certain Led Zeppelin songs always remind me of this high school dropout thug who lived across the street from me while I was growing up. His name was Keith Abbott (we called him Keith Addict, behind his back of course) and Led Zep was always blasting out of his open bedroom window on warm spring days. He intimidated all the kids on the block, threw wild parties, and was rumored to be everything from a drug dealer to a (literal) motherfucker. I still like Led Zeppelin a lot.
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