If that Chevy Nova could speak, I bet it would have a lot of funny stories to tell. The three of us could be personified as any of the characters in Dazed & Confused.
This particular night was really no different than any other in my early twenties with the exception of the music being played as we drove around aimlessly stoned. I suppose, the pilot of the Nova that night wasn't in a Tom Sawyer mood. More so, he was a little melancholy based on the fact he was skipping around between every monster ballad he could find from Poison to Guns N Roses to that hauntingly beautiful song House of Pain from Faster Pussycat. Sad song after sad song being played over his stereo system that was worth more than the car itself.
I have to admit the mood created by those songs with the addition of pot and Milwaukee's Best flowing in my blood stream left me thinking about you. I knew you were gone. I had no misconceptions that what I once dreamed of with you would ever come to fruition. If anything, I just missed you. My recollection of you is hazy and was even so then but what I do know is that if we are lucky, once in a lifetime, we will meet one person who raises our standards and expectations from that moment on. You were that girl.
I didn't love you because you were beautiful and you were. I didn't fall for you because of that little beauty mark that I always sensed you were insecure about even though, vulnerability is an aphrodisiac with me. I didn't lay awake dreaming of you because you let me talk about myself without becoming bored. I loved you because you were unlike any girl I had ever known. I can't even give you specifics what it was about you. I just know that every moment I was in your presence, I didn't want to say goodbye.
The last time we spoke, I knew it was our goodbye yet I avoided that word. Maybe, I hoped, someday, down the road, like right now, we could start what never began. But I also knew that people like you; those rare remarkable human beings where beauty is external and internal, only come around once.
I was in the back seat of that Chevy Nova thinking about you. I was wondering who you were with because there was no doubt some lucky guy out there knew what I knew about you. I was certain he would not let you slip out of his grasp as I had. There wasn't envy in my wonder; in fact, I wanted the best for you. I suppose, that's how you know it's love.
My life has been chaotic since the moment I was born. Funny thing is there comes a short period in our lives when chaos is defined as adventure. Those years with those friends in that Chevy Nova smoking pot was adventurous. And I loved every moment.
When you slipped out of my life for what I thought was forever, I began to long again for quiet and stability as I had as a child. I wanted a simple life with a loving woman, 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. I think it was that night in the Nova when I determined that this adventure was short lived and one day, I would look back upon it all without remorse but with gratitude.
And I do.
I want to tell you about this adventure I am on now but really, its just a euphemism for chaos. I was built and bred on chaos but I thrive on stability. We have these small talks on occasion and it's funny; you still make me want to be a better man. To this day, you raise my standards and expectations not only of what I expect in others but in myself. I think it's important that you know this.
We drove around for hours that night and ended up in the middle of nowhere. I swear for 3 hours we listened to nothing but the saddest songs ever played by a hair band. When we finally stopped in the desert to finish our cases of beer and bag of pot, the three of us spoke about our aspirations. Let's call it deep talking; that thing friends do when under the influence. One of the three of us has reached his dreams. Sadly, the second friend left us too soon and me, well, I am still trying.
We spent the night in that desert and slept through the burning Arizona sun until past noon. On the ride home, the pilot of that Chevy Nova decided it was time to go back to his routine: playing Rush's Tom Sawyer on repeat for three damn hours. God, I hated that song.
I used to hate routine because of that song. I suppose the mere definition of adventure is breaking routine. It's also the same definition of chaos.
I've got so many stories I will never get to share with you and I am sure you've got plenty more than me.
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