Paradise City, the Radio, and a Moment of Time Travel
So my car has not been doing well the last two or three weeks. She’s been in the shop twice for very expensive repairs. I’m driving a 2004, and it’s not a Honda, and it’s not a Toyota. So this car has lived well beyond the predicted lifespan.
Recently, we were sort of stranded, and I had to have the car towed. I was pretty much on the precipice of just scrapping it. Like, you know what? Give me the 200 bucks, take the car. I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore.
And so, as a result, we had cleaned out the entire car. So it’s just stripped on the inside. There is nothing in there anymore, including, of course, my CDs. Because, you know, Gen X—I have CDs. And I have a CD player in my car. But all the CDs are gone.
Well, we end up getting the car fixed. Now I’m back on the road, taking the kids to camp and all that kind of stuff. I drop off my teenager, and it’s just me in the car now. And I realize: oh, all my CDs are gone. What am I going to do?
Oh, you know what? I’m gonna listen to the radio.
I haven’t listened to the radio in however long, and I’m just curious what the local radio is up to. So I turn it on—and the very first thing that happens? “Paradise City.” Guns N’ Roses. Like, yes. Okay. This is cool.
It was within the first ten seconds of the song, so I got to listen to the whole thing, and it was so cool. I haven’t listened to Guns N’ Roses in years. It’s not on a regular rotation with me. But hearing “Paradise City” took me back to June 30th, 1989, when we sort of codified a group of friends. And that song was attached to that moment in time. It just felt really good.
After “Paradise City,” there was some local sports news. Like, I don’t give a shit about sports. Whatever. But okay, I’m listening to the news, and then I wonder what the next song’s going to be.
Do you remember that anticipation?
The next song is the Chili Peppers.
Oh, okay, cool. I didn’t even know what song it was—I’m also not a huge Chili Peppers fan—but the sound, the rhythm, the voice… I was like, this is the Chili Peppers. There’s no question. And it turns out it was. I didn’t recognize the song, but it was good. So cool.
Now, hold that thought:
My friend Matt and I—we’ve known each other since 1987, so we go back a ways. And he is as terminally nostalgic as I am. When we get on FaceTime and hang out, we talk about current events, what’s going on with our families (we both have kids), and all that kind of stuff.
Then, inevitably, we talk about the past. Because we love doing that. And it’s very nostalgic. Sometimes it even verges on sentimental.
Now, my understanding of the term “sentimental” is that it can be construed as a bad thing. If you encounter books or movies that are deemed to be sentimental—or God forbid, “overly sentimental”—that’s generally looked down on. But we definitely cross into that territory. And it’s fun. We both enjoy it. Otherwise, we’d stop doing it. It’s a good time.
But nostalgia and sentimentality and reminiscing—which is what Matt and I do—those aren’t the same thing. They’re very different words for very different things.
Back in the car today, listening to the Chili Peppers, listening to Guns N’ Roses, even listening to the sports news… Driving by myself with the window down, the weather nice, just sort of cruising, hitting all the green lights…
There was this brief window where I wasn’t nostalgic and I wasn’t sentimental.
I was there.
I was 18 and had just started college, right out of high school in the summer, so I could take math. Just listening to the radio. And there was this moment—it lasted a minute, two minutes, maybe three—of actually inhabiting that space. It was like time travel.
And I’m just in the car, cruising. Thinking about girls. Thinking about what’s next. Thinking about math, thinking about parents, thinking about moving out, thinking about… all this stuff. And being forced to wait.
I can’t just turn on my phone. I can’t scroll through Spotify. I can’t even put in a mix CD at this point. I just have to wait and be patient.
And that’s how we grew up.
We were the last generation, really, I think, to have to wait for our entertainment. Commercial breaks. Radio. Television. All of it.
Yeah. It was just kind of a… a cool thing. And that’s the kind of moment I strive to capture in my writing.
I just got my newest YA novel DUET back from my editor, and we had a great hour-long conversation yesterday. We talked about how that’s one of the things I was able to do in this book—and in my previous book in the series, STARS OF THE SHOW—capturing and reliving all the feelings, the sensations, the moments of that age and that era.
While also making a point to drag some of it into the modern day—which is a topic for another time.
But it just felt really cool.
So my challenge for you today—in addition to visiting my Kickstarter for DUET, because we only have a few days left on the campaign—is this:
Next time you’re driving, if you can listen to the radio, do it.
If that’s not something you normally do, just find a station—maybe even at random—and just listen to it. Force yourself to sit through the commercials. Wait. Feel that.
See if it triggers anything for you—any kind of nostalgia. I’d be curious to hear your experience with it, because it was really cool. It just felt really good.
Now I’m home, and we have to call the government today to sort some stuff out with them. That’s going to be frustrating. And then, who’s picking up which kid and taking them where? Real life intrudes, very quickly.
But for a minute, I was there.
And everything was okay.
And it was great.
So give that a try. I hope you’re doing well. And I hope you’ll check out DUET, which is part of The Drama Department series. It’s all about being young, being in high school, and being in the ’90s again for a little while. You can find it here:
Which, hey—if I can offer you a quick little time travel jaunt back to that era, I’m more than happy to do it.
That’s all I’ve got.
Take care.
