Here’s Key to the Highway again. This Bill Broonzy classic is one that I do all the time. Perhaps you will listen to it as you read another small chapter in the Adventures of George Packard:
George Packard took a seat at the back of the #20 bus. He had in his mind a story, or rather a series of little stories. He would write about his own adventures. Each day would be another adventure. True, the #20 bus was not a very auspicious start he had to admit. Not very adventuresome. Nor adventurous.
Yes, he George Packard, retired schoolteacher, would have to set out somewhere. To travel. All that “finding what you need in your own backyard stuff” was for losers. No, to have adventure, one must set out on the road!
What was that song? Yes. The Key to the Highway. The Highway, the Road, La Strada. The moving, the movement toward another place, another life. A life of adventure. The high seas perhaps…..
George Packard snapped out of his reverie just in time. He pulled the cord to request a stop. The heavy bus lunged toward the curb and jerked to a sudden stop at Crescent Drive. George stepped down from the bus and began his day.
Happy New Year’s eve, Stephen!
You too. Happy New Year!!
Well, at least George had a little time for dreaming. Before his stop came up, anyway…
Yeah, I keep telling George he has to do a bit better than the #20 bus. After all, if he wants adventure so bad…..
your music is every morning my background while I’m writing …
That’s a real compiment, but it’s probably bad for your grammar.
the best lessons in English I ever had! And guitar lessons too. I like your flashbacks to the history of American guitar players very much!
Greetings from Germany – and as for my latest amazon book review, featuring your work:
http://flickrcomments.wordpress.com/2013/01/17/up-in-the-bronx/
Thank you Frizz for your very kind review. I did do this one on that CD. I figured I had to open with Key to the Highway, so I did.
But I’m very glad you liked the book and found it interesting culturally. I didn’t want to write something nostalgic about the Bronx (not that I’m not full of tremendously fond memories), because those kind of sentimental books don’t interest me. But all the same I’m glad if I gave any sort of picture of what the Bronx was like.
Looks like GP reached home.