Ah, in late spring a young-ish woman's thoughts turn to Neil Young.
I don't really like driving except when I'm by myself, I more or less know where I'm going, the shadows are long, the traffic is light, the music is loud and the windows are down. Then I love it.
It was best of all when I still had my 2cv. There weren't many songs you could hear with the roof off and both cylinders roaring, but the ones that made it through were the best songs in the world. And one of my best tapes had Ragged Glory on one side and Nothing's Shocking on the other.
I parted with Cherry five years or so back, and I left the tapes with her - the rain used to drip through her cassette deck so I don't think they would really have worked in any other setting. But I still think driving is a time for the familiar, not for the strange, and for the epic, not for the fey.
Tonight I drove out into Oxfordshire after work to help fit a bath in a bungalow in Carterton. I was tired before I started, and completely knackered afterwards (though strangely manic once I got home, hence stupid late blogging). I should have resented it, or at least part of me should. But instead I got a perfect late May sky, with the sun shafting down through the clouds, framing half an hour of contemplation set to Neil Young's Unplugged.
Left me helpless, helpless, helpless.
But in a good way.
joella
2 comments:
Long May You Run, Joella.
S
Now that song really is something. (At least in its original version -- has his voice held up? Ought to find out.) Double-edged feeling when a "young-ish" person commends a relic from your own youth. Nice that it isn't a relic after all. Less so to be reminded you were only the sung-at, not the song.
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