- I am NOT a taxi service,
- I don't spend my day sitting by the phone, waiting to get the ultra-important call letting me know my driving assignment,
- It is not my goal in life to chauffer him around like I'm the driver of a rock band tour bus...I actually have other things to do, and
- It may be a valuable exercise for him to start learning what a gallon a gas costs (for real, not in Grand Theft Auto world)
He let me control the radio tonight (a small miracle unto itself). When I listen to music, I find myself rotating between: 93.7 Mike FM, it's like my ipod on shuffle; 106.7 Lite FM, it's like the dentist's office, and 92.9 FM- alternative rock; On Sirius I jump between the 90s Channel, the 80s Channel, Classic Rock, Singer/Songwriter, and Classic R&B. If I feel like singing, it's straight to the Broadway Channel and finger crossed, it's Do, Re, Mi from The Sound of Music. I kept the rotation small and safe, lest I loose my dial privileges and I'm forced to hear what so and so is going to do to and with what's her name and how long it will last, etc. etc.
David Bowie's "Young Americans" came on. I lingered for a moment, then hit the dial to move on. "Turn back to Bowie," my son said. "What do you know about Bowie?" I ask, more than a little surprised. "This is a great song," he says with that ever present I-know-a-lot-more-than-you-think-I-know tone. "Well, I know that, but what do you know about it?" "They use it on NHL Hockey...you know, XBOX." "I know XBOX." We stop talking and he turns up the volume. And for those 3 minutes and 15 seconds, he becomes a little older to me, and I'm praying I'm just a little hipper to him, and we drive into the city together.