Hotel California

Over the years I've spent a fair amount of time riding along the highway in a variety of trucks, cars and the family wagon. I suspect the long car trip is nearly a thing of the past. I asked a European friend recently while riding shotgun down an immaculate little highway in his charming country whether kids there had games they played and songs they sang just when riding in the car. He looked at me like he was afraid I might be going to start singing and said no. I was remembering "99 Bottles of Beer on the wall" and so on. I also remember spotting license plates from all 50 states and playing alphabet games. (I'm going to Altoona and I'm taking an anorak, etc). I suppose these have been done away with by dvd players. As an adult surfing the radio stations was the bigger pass time. If ever you woke up in a rest stop with your knees jammed against the dashboard and you head wedged under the edge of the headrest and weren't sure what planet you were on you could narrow things down quite a bit by scanning the dial for Hotel California. I have come to believe that where ever you are in the United States, be it night or day Hotel California can be tuned in on the radio. I wouldn't be surprised to learn it is being broadcast into space as a lure for alien life. Last Wednesday I was doing laundry and other chores around the house and was mesmerized by the Eagles concert on TV. That show should have had a disclaimer at the return from each commercial break warning those of us sensitive to flashbacks to change the channel and quick. That stuff wasn't just music for the little household of women I grew up in way back when. Not having a brother, or a father who ever came home from work, it was an oracle for the opposite sex. It was really bad advice, too.