When I bought my new car it came with free satellite radio for three months. Fine, I'll use it but there is no way I was going to buy it. I was not going to fall into that trap. It was nice to have though. I don't drive all that far to work but, quickly became used to it. There were so many channels. With a push of a button or command to the "lady" in the Navigation system, I could listen to any kind of music to suit my fancy. The reception is so good, I could drive from coast to coast and never change the station.
There are channels dedicated to any specific genre of music. It is possible to listen to The Big Band Hits of the 40's, or punch in the 50's and the First Decade of Rock 'n Roll or fast forward through the Awesome 80's to current Pop tunes. There are even what I like to think of as "sub" categories; Adult Hits of the Past, Easy Listening and, Classic Hits actually have the same "sound" to me. If I'm feeling rather funky I might switch to the Blues or Contemporary Jazz; if I'm looking for inspiration the Catholic Channel might fill the bill.
I can listen to the news or talk shows on free radio; I'm a subscriber! I pay to listen to music, and I darn well plan on getting my money's worth. I can tell you the latest on Brittany or Justin. But if you ask me about Obama's health care plans or what relief efforts are being sent to the victims of the latest natural disaster or what that disaster even is, I'm lost. I am useless at the water cooler. When everyone is wasting time at work talking about current events, I just fill my cup and go back to my desk. I guess it has kept me pretty isolated.
Driving with a teenager usually will find the Top 20 blasting from the speakers. I don't mind Hip-Hop but when she sneaks the Uncut/Uncensored Hip-Hop (because she doesn't have satellite in her car) I have to draw the line. I give her the look of shock, only to be told "that's the real world, Mom!"
Being in the car is a great place to talk to a teenager. I think it has something to do with the fact you don't have to look each other in the eye and the conversation is not as intimidating so I take this opportunity to have a discussion about raunchy language. Again, I'm told how this is real life and everyone talks that way. Fine, let's listen to what this fella (I'm corrected; that would be "gangsta" or the least "dude") has to say. Every time the F-word is sung, and I use the term "sung" loosely, very loosely, I shoot an eyebrow-raised glance, only to see a slight smile on her forward-staring face, as I try my best not to smile back. I go on to explain that the constant barrage of cuss words will only lead the listener to use them just as casually, too. That brought on a knee-slapping belly laugh.
She was no longer laughing when we arrived at the coffee shop and I ordered a f!@#in' latte without any g-d whipped cream. I thanked the be-otch as we drove away to the sounds of Traditional Country Radio.
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