My boyfriend loves cars. Loves 'em. Ab-sa-freaking-lutely loves 'em. One night at our local bar, I swear, I listened to him talk so passionately about cars with a total stranger for close to 2 hours that I'm unsure if he took a sip of his beer or even paused to take a breath during the entire duration of the conversation.
I mean... yeah, cars are cool...obviously. They get you where you need to go fast. They smell amazing (sometimes). You feel a sense of pride when you purchase your first one, and are saddened when the time comes to sell your favorite.
Car commercials where dads are sending their daughters off to college never really tugged at my heart strings enough to make me want to buy that brand of automobile, though. I never really got why so many car companies made commercials so sappy, so cheesy, so family oriented. Until this morning.
Tom Petty died last night. Awesome segue, huh?
Tom Petty died last night and I'm really sad about it. I almost feel foolish for admitting that. Especially after I told my boyfriend that Tom Petty died, and his response was, "Who's Tom Petty?" (Love you, Drew!) 😉
... Apparently, Tom Petty's music wasn't as impactful on some other people's lives and memories as it was on mine.
His music didn't pull me out of a deep depression, nor did it spark an inspiration for a future career in the rock music industry, despite my numerous attempts to convince my mother that I actually am a decent singer. But, his music will always mean a great deal to me.
As many daughters do, I spent most Novembers and Decembers with my mom driving around town Christmas shopping. When I am older, I won't remember the stores we went to, or the items and gifts we purchased during these excursions. What I will remember is the drive there and the drive home; listening to the radio, and "Breakdown" by Tom Petty coming through the speakers. My mom immediately recognized it, and cranked the volume up as far as the speakers would allow. This was the same mom who was constantly nagging me to turn MY music down because it was too loud. It startled me. I looked over at my mom and there was something different about her while she was listening and singing along. Her previous structured, by-the-book driving, became a bit more relaxed and she gracefully changed lanes, weaving to-and-fro as she came across cars traveling at a lesser speed. She knew every word of the song. It was like she was back in her first car, a young woman without a care in the world. Her eyes looked beyond the road and held a glimmer that I'd never seen before in my mom. You know, she was just "Mom" before. She was the woman who drove me to softball games and begged me to clean my room and yelled at me up the stairs to turn my music down. Now, this car ride made her an identifiable person to me. A person who was more than just my mom. A person who had a life before me, who had feelings just like I had, who let music transcend and take her to a different place and time.
When I first learned to drive, my brother (who cannot drive) bought himself a small pick-up truck, and that was the truck that I (as a newly licensed driver) was to drive my brother around in, to whatever destination he so pleased. Brian, my brother, played air guitar in that truck to "Running Down a Dream" by Tom Petty, pretty much on a weekly basis. And you know what? At the stop lights, I played along with him. We jammed HARD in that truck.
When we were kids and we had to drive to Southern Ohio for family gatherings, the biggest challenge my family faced was what music to listen to during the drive down. At the time, it felt like we were crammed into the car like sardines; my brother's boney elbow digging into my side and my little sister was touching me... TOUCHING ME!! She had some nerve. That alone is enough to drive an 11 year old off the edge. I'm sure with our arguing, bickering, and whining, the inside of the car probably resembled more of a zoo's primate exhibit than a family car-ride. However, do you know what song we always agreed on, no matter what, and sung harmoniously like we were the freaking Von Trap family singing "So Long, Farewell"? It was Tom Petty's, "I Won't Back Down". In those moments while that song was playing, there was peace and there was happiness in the world. Or at least there was in the Zuefle family Volkswagon.
He was no saint, he was an ordinary man. He went through the fame, fortune, and struggles that come along with those American dreams that most people never come close to achieving. I did not worship the man like he was a god, but I can't help but feel a bittersweet loss and nostalgia today. I will always remember the times spent growing up with my family and listening to Tom Petty... a time before smart phones, and iPads, and Netflix. A time when singing music with meaningful lyrics and dancing in the kitchen with your family was the normal way to spend your evenings. Do families do that anymore? Without having a cell phone in hand and immediately posting the video of the very personal family memory on Instagram? I know I am just as guilty of this as anyone, but it truly amazes me that I can so vividly recollect these memories of jamming in the car with my family, without the aid of a video on a phone.
This is why I am sad that Tom Petty died. And this is why now I understand why car companies make sappy car commercials.
I mean... yeah, cars are cool...obviously. They get you where you need to go fast. They smell amazing (sometimes). You feel a sense of pride when you purchase your first one, and are saddened when the time comes to sell your favorite.
Car commercials where dads are sending their daughters off to college never really tugged at my heart strings enough to make me want to buy that brand of automobile, though. I never really got why so many car companies made commercials so sappy, so cheesy, so family oriented. Until this morning.
Tom Petty died last night. Awesome segue, huh?
Tom Petty died last night and I'm really sad about it. I almost feel foolish for admitting that. Especially after I told my boyfriend that Tom Petty died, and his response was, "Who's Tom Petty?" (Love you, Drew!) 😉
... Apparently, Tom Petty's music wasn't as impactful on some other people's lives and memories as it was on mine.
His music didn't pull me out of a deep depression, nor did it spark an inspiration for a future career in the rock music industry, despite my numerous attempts to convince my mother that I actually am a decent singer. But, his music will always mean a great deal to me.
As many daughters do, I spent most Novembers and Decembers with my mom driving around town Christmas shopping. When I am older, I won't remember the stores we went to, or the items and gifts we purchased during these excursions. What I will remember is the drive there and the drive home; listening to the radio, and "Breakdown" by Tom Petty coming through the speakers. My mom immediately recognized it, and cranked the volume up as far as the speakers would allow. This was the same mom who was constantly nagging me to turn MY music down because it was too loud. It startled me. I looked over at my mom and there was something different about her while she was listening and singing along. Her previous structured, by-the-book driving, became a bit more relaxed and she gracefully changed lanes, weaving to-and-fro as she came across cars traveling at a lesser speed. She knew every word of the song. It was like she was back in her first car, a young woman without a care in the world. Her eyes looked beyond the road and held a glimmer that I'd never seen before in my mom. You know, she was just "Mom" before. She was the woman who drove me to softball games and begged me to clean my room and yelled at me up the stairs to turn my music down. Now, this car ride made her an identifiable person to me. A person who was more than just my mom. A person who had a life before me, who had feelings just like I had, who let music transcend and take her to a different place and time.
When I first learned to drive, my brother (who cannot drive) bought himself a small pick-up truck, and that was the truck that I (as a newly licensed driver) was to drive my brother around in, to whatever destination he so pleased. Brian, my brother, played air guitar in that truck to "Running Down a Dream" by Tom Petty, pretty much on a weekly basis. And you know what? At the stop lights, I played along with him. We jammed HARD in that truck.
When we were kids and we had to drive to Southern Ohio for family gatherings, the biggest challenge my family faced was what music to listen to during the drive down. At the time, it felt like we were crammed into the car like sardines; my brother's boney elbow digging into my side and my little sister was touching me... TOUCHING ME!! She had some nerve. That alone is enough to drive an 11 year old off the edge. I'm sure with our arguing, bickering, and whining, the inside of the car probably resembled more of a zoo's primate exhibit than a family car-ride. However, do you know what song we always agreed on, no matter what, and sung harmoniously like we were the freaking Von Trap family singing "So Long, Farewell"? It was Tom Petty's, "I Won't Back Down". In those moments while that song was playing, there was peace and there was happiness in the world. Or at least there was in the Zuefle family Volkswagon.
He was no saint, he was an ordinary man. He went through the fame, fortune, and struggles that come along with those American dreams that most people never come close to achieving. I did not worship the man like he was a god, but I can't help but feel a bittersweet loss and nostalgia today. I will always remember the times spent growing up with my family and listening to Tom Petty... a time before smart phones, and iPads, and Netflix. A time when singing music with meaningful lyrics and dancing in the kitchen with your family was the normal way to spend your evenings. Do families do that anymore? Without having a cell phone in hand and immediately posting the video of the very personal family memory on Instagram? I know I am just as guilty of this as anyone, but it truly amazes me that I can so vividly recollect these memories of jamming in the car with my family, without the aid of a video on a phone.
This is why I am sad that Tom Petty died. And this is why now I understand why car companies make sappy car commercials.
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