On a Spring night in 1980 my dad brought his Camaro to an easy stop at the curb. While the car was still running I unbuckled my lap belt but as I reached for the door handle my dad stopped me and pointed to the 8-track player:
“We don’t get out until the song ends”
“But they’re waiting for us”
“They’ll wait until the song ends”
Whenever I feel like I don’t understand my father I remind myself that at our core we’re the same person.
(For the record it was Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band’s Live Bullet in the tape deck.)