Sunday, August 4, 2019

Rock Rock Til You Drop

In my mind I'm still a baby skinned, bad-ass rebel. In reality, I once was a bad-ass rebel but am currently a dutiful, obligated, child-rearing softie. To make myself feel better, like I'm still cool, I put the rag top down and let the warm summer wind blow through my hair.

The open air is freeing in a sense but as I take the curve with a little more gusto than usual, my mid drifts and I realize that I can't even remember the last time I misbehaved. I mean regretfully misbehaved (not get yourself sent to prison misbehaved, but embarrassed if anyone really knew misbehaved.) I drive a little farther and ponder the differences between my current persona and the twenty year old one.

The car hugs the curve and as I feel that familiar resistant pull on the steering wheel. I turn up stereo as it booms Def Leppard's Rock Rock Til You Drop. The thud, thud, thud, rings in my chest as my neck bobs to the heavy, pulsating rhythm. I move my hands from their ten and two positions to a single grip, right palm resting a top the steering wheel as I push my aviators up and view life through their yellow ambiance. Oh yeah, this is the stuff. That girl is still in there. I suddenly feel powerful, confident, and in control.

My moment lasts for just that, a single moment before a sudden gust of wind bellows through the front seat and sends my grocery list flying out of the car like a brittle, autumn leaf. I sigh a deep heavy sigh wondering how I'm going to find it on the side of the busy road but then remember... I'm a bad-ass rebel. I don't need a grocery list, I've got it all upstairs. Take that Kroger!


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