Prologue: The Cars
1990
It's an album I never liked, by a band that I still don't like. I saw it there in a box, on a card table, slowly warping in the sun, and by the time I realized what had happened I had already paid the frumpy housewife who was running the garage sale. She gave me a half-hearted smile, like I'd just bought her that pack of cigs that she's been needing. When I got home I just sorta threw it into the record player and left it there. I didn't have any intention of actually listening to it, it's like I was possessed to fork over a dollar for something I didn't even want just to let it go to waste.
After that, I completely forgot I had it. Then she came in, rambled on about something and like usual I kind of tuned her out in favor of the TV., but hey it was a documentary on Led Zepplin… you'd have ignored her too. She said something like "…kids from school…dirty socks…broke my shoe…Ste…?" Or at least that's what I heard of it.
She sighed loud and deliberately. When she saw the record and pushed the play button and after that I was gone, as if the music had magical powers and I was thrown back in time to the years that the album was played far too much. Bits and pieces flooded my brain, I was too perma-stoned to remember all of it. But there were those times when things just stick to your memory. Like the years where I'd tried so hard to block out most everything, 'cause of the pain