Gray, stormy clouds eventually gave way to torrential rain fall. For hours we remained trapped in the tiny, confined space. We wondered when we would be free from our aching backs, headaches, and discomfort caused by the cramped area. There was no end in sight. Every sleeping position was tested, then rejected. It was hopeless. There would be no sleep. No comfort. Not even a nice view to enjoy. And with hours to kill, there was only one thing left to do. Go surfing. Music surfing of course.
On a ten hour car trip to pick up our little Goose (Eddie's cousin) from North Carolina, we made the best of a looong trip by rocking out to the iPod. By the time we were on the Garden State Parkway, we had choreography, back up harmonies, and microphones. No one can do Aretha Franklin like 2 mezzo sopranos and a baritone who halfway know the words to "Chain Chain Chain," but man, can we milk those high notes! We scanned the 8 kilo bites for the perfect tunes to lift our spirits and pass the time as we made our way north. Not even Rick Springfield himself can bring that magic touch to "Jessie's Girl" like we can.
And finally when we rolled into little Lodi, with our now hoarse throats, we said a prayer of thanks for the invention of the iPod. Because we know that next Sunday, we'll go surfing again, all the way back to North Carolina.
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