Summer in the 1970s was an olive green, two-door Pontiac Monte Carlo. I’d stand on the backseat hump, forearms resting on the bench seating while my mom drove us to Big Bear supermarket or Rink’s with its toy aisle and LP racks. The car’s vinyl was lava in summer and prayers if you happened to brush the steel seat belt clickers with your thigh. Shorts were short, safety an afterthought. Air conditioning? I doubt it. Nostalgia is story no one wants to hear. Memory in middle age is nostalgia. I’ve become a middle-aged man reminiscing about a specific make and model of car. But dang that thing was cool.

Good tunes here! Every single Why Bonnie has put out before their album drops tomorrow is terrific. There’s a lot of near country rock here, and after I biked the hills and dales of Omaha yesterday listening to Steve Miller Band’s Greatest Hits 1974-78 yesterday I had to throw on “Fly Like an Eagle.” That cassette was probably the first album I loved once I hit puberty and my tastes changed from top 40 to AOR. It’s a got a terrific groove and there’s something delightful about the band’s whole vibe.

Still lying like a corpse in my writing rut. I should revise the Nebraska novel one more time but the thought of diving through one more time fills me with dread. The writing could be improved and after Dan Hoyt gave me feedback I’ve got some ideas of the structure and character that could be molded for the better. Still, ugh. Is there anyone out there? Just nod if you can hear me.