Aimee Mann--"Freeway" (mp3)While climbing Monteagle Mountain, the car overheated, so I pulled over, waited awhile, then made the mistake of opening the hood and twisting off the radiator cap, which they tell you never to do, but I did, and the sudden blast of steam blinded me instantly (though not permanently because of my glasses), and I stumbled in the painful darkness, probably a little too close to the highway, because something passing must have clipped me (I heard the horn and reached toward it and as best I can tell, I went
sailing
through
the
air
into some bushes, where I lay for awhile trying to get my bearings and figure out what sharp-edged were underneath me and on me and causing considerable pain and I thought I could hear the hiss of my radiator, but before I knew what was what, I felt hands kind of brushing me off and grabbing my ankles and dragging me into the heavier foliage, the person or persons doing it completely ignoring my cries of "What's going on?" and "Who are you?" and "Could you scratch that itch I have just below my right knee?", as I said, all to no avail and, with my eyes stinging and useless, the only thing I knew for sure was that I was being moved (dragged!) away from the interstate, though my thoughts also turned to my car, and especially the Ipod in the passenger seat, which, as it shuffled through what must have been the finest collection of songs in Tennessee, made me philosophical for a moment, even with all that was happening, and caused me to wonder:
'if an Ipod was playing in a car and there was no one around, if someone came upon it, would they turn it off to save precious battery life, having possibly been in that same situation before and then being really disappointed that they didn't have enough battery life to play a game of Bubble Bash while they sat on the toilet?'
but I was not optimistic, and, frankly, I had other concerns, since by now I was scraping along what seemed to be a dirt road and my right wrist was flapping like plastic glove, probably from the smack of the side mirror that sent me
sailing
through
the
air
into some bushes, where I lay for awhile trying to get my bearings and figure out what sharp-edged were underneath me and on me and causing considerable pain and I thought I could hear the hiss of my radiator, but before I knew what was what, I felt hands kind of brushing me off and grabbing my ankles and dragging me into the heavier foliage, the person or persons doing it completely ignoring my cries of "What's going on?" and "Who are you?" and "Could you scratch that itch I have just below my right knee?", as I said, all to no avail and, with my eyes stinging and useless, the only thing I knew for sure was that I was being moved (dragged!) away from the interstate, though my thoughts also turned to my car, and especially the Ipod in the passenger seat, which, as it shuffled through what must have been the finest collection of songs in Tennessee, made me philosophical for a moment, even with all that was happening, and caused me to wonder:'if an Ipod was playing in a car and there was no one around, if someone came upon it, would they turn it off to save precious battery life, having possibly been in that same situation before and then being really disappointed that they didn't have enough battery life to play a game of Bubble Bash while they sat on the toilet?'
but I was not optimistic, and, frankly, I had other concerns, since by now I was scraping along what seemed to be a dirt road and my right wrist was flapping like plastic glove, probably from the smack of the side mirror that sent me
spinning
into
space
but I guess you already got that picture, so I'll go on to say that soon the dragging stopped and while no one spoke, I could hear footsteps all around me and metal clanging against metal, but indistinctly so I couldn't really tell what they were doing and I was starting to hurt anyway, my flappy wrist beginning to puff up and my backside sore and a pain in my crotch that I really couldn't account for (yet!) and then a bunch of hands were on me again, this time, pulling my shirt off, unbuckling my pants, and yanking them and everything else off and I didn't know which way to move or what was happening or what they were deciding, but then a soft hand kind of fondled me and kind of jerked things around and I heard a woman's voice say, "You've been bit by a snake, son, and I'm gonna have to get that venom out" and she went to work on getting that venom out and about all I could think about was her getting that venom out and I guess there must have been a bunch in there since she kept working at it and I started to feel a whole lot better, too, and all of a sudden I could tell my blurry vision was beginning to clear and then I
shouted"Oh
my
God!"
because in front of me was my Camry, somehow, rescued, like me, by a benevolent race of backwoods, car loving women who said, "We've serviced your car and we've serviced you and now you'd best be on your way 'cause we don't want folks knowin' about us and messin' with us tryin' to live the way we want to live..."
And of course there's more to the story, but all's well that ends well. Here I am settled in Chicago. Sorry for the delay with this post; I had to type it one handed (you know, because of the smacking the other wrist into the side mirror and all).
This version of Aimee Mann's "Freeway" is available at daytrotters.com; the original cd $%@#Smilers can be had at Itunes.
This version of Aimee Mann's "Freeway" is available at daytrotters.com; the original cd $%@#Smilers can be had at Itunes.
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