I Oughta Know

A few years ago, I helped supervise a youth car wash.  I remember an older gentleman from our neighborhood zooming up in his red sports car.  When he rolled down his window and I tried to answer his questions, I was amused by is determination to keep listening to his cranked up Styx even when he was having a hard time hearing me.  The "concept album" was dead, but it still gushed out in its glorious combination of guitars/synthesizer and over-the-top dramatic vocals.   Although his car was red and music was loud, it struck me as all very middle-aged.   I chuckled to myself that he was not aware of how the whole scene was playing out.

Time has moved on and clearly I have aged as well.  As I drove my daughter home from ballet, I found one of my great "angry anthems".   Alanis Morissette, in all her fury had once brought great comfort to me after a break-up.  I would holler along with Alanis to  "You oughta know" while driving late at night. As I zoomed up the road, with my daughter in tow, I attempted to recreate my earlier memories.  As the lyrics shouted in the car, I thought about the red car and what she was singing.   I turned the radio off.