Cheap Sunglasses, a Sleeping Bag, and some Tush?????

I spend a lot of time listening to the radio. It’s one of the perks of working alone all the time. I switch stations constantly for variety. There are several Christian stations, too many Country stations, Public radio, Sports talk, Royals or Rockies this time of year. I listen to KRVN for ag news. I can barely tolerate the talk show stations, liberal or conservative. I don’t know if any of those city folks know what ‘beating a dead horse’ means, but they do it regularly.

Here’s the one that really irks me, though, Classic Rock stations. There are three local and several more I can pick up if the tractor is pointed the right direction. It’s a misnomer. Classic rock is the Stones, the Beatles, Paul Revere and the Raiders, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, etc, etc. These so called “Classic Rock” stations are playing stuff from my youth. I’ll have you know, my youth is not that far removed to be called ‘Classic’.

Anyway, I was listening to one of said “Classic Rock” stations this evening and the disc jockey played an awesome set of so called “Classic Rock”. Def Leppard, AC/DC, followed by Van Halen shook the tractor windows. For ten uninterrupted minutes I didn’t worry about the farm economy, or my kids, or the weather, or finances, or cows being out. I simply assaulted my ears with screaming guitars and wasted youth.

I leaned back in the seat, being thankful for auto steer, because it makes air guitaring much easier, and had a bit of a reckoning. I have blamed my hearing loss on my vocation for years, but could it be something else? Well, probably not, but we all have certain songs that must be listened to with the volume turned up to eleven (Spinal Tap reference for the younger generation).

At that moment, I felt all was well with the world. It just couldn’t get much better. Then, the DJ says a new stage production is in the works………”ZZ Top the Musical – Sharp Dressed Man”!! Praise the Lord, I was so wrong. Life got exponentially better. I’m not much of a go to a Broadway musical kind of guy. I totally missed Wicked and Hamilton, but I’d walk farther than the Proclaimers to see a musical paying homage to Tres Hombres. My entire immature, hormonal, awkward youth, packaged and put on stage could be nothing short of miraculous. Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t dream of waking up with Eliminator’s keys.