Buckeye or Bust

["Bill O'Neill" <billo@erols.com>]

Looking fwd. to exploring radio from Lowell to Ohio tomorrow.  Driving at
night means one thing to "normal" people.  To me, and perhaps, you, it means
I will be the only one awake, able to scan the AM/FM (stock Delco) dial in
the (R)Astro with reckless abandon in the idealistic hope for something GOOD
on the radio, something that makes me say, "Well, what do you know about
that!"  (Thank you, George Bailey).

That kind of radio response hasn't happened often in my life.  Once, I
stumbled upon KDGE in Dallas  and XETRA (FM) when in San Diego a few years
ago.  The Truckin' Bozo on 'The Big One', 700 WLW Cincinnati is always a
sure bet to keep me between the lines once I get to the Cumberland, MD area
or so and all signals tend to simply vanish and 'scan' becomes but a
perpetual light show on the dash.  Froggy 101 in the Wilkes-Barre, PA area
is always good for a listen - how Country can be done well on a fairly tight
budget (one assumes).

On a related note and open for comment, my loving wife very aptly observed
recently, "I _listen_ to the radio.  You experience it.  You analyze it.
You parse it.  You send it up the flagpole and salute it"  (I would have
said "tower" versus "flagpole," but that even enhances my point....)  I bet
there are many such exchanges among us on this list.  Much is written about
couples and TV clickers.  Triple that dynamic when it comes to one partner
with radio woefully intrinsic in the DNA while the other unincumbered by
such a malaise.  When driving, I can "listen" to, say, 10 stations in a
quarter hour period and be back after the respective spot breaks end, in
sequence, and maintain a mental scorecard.  My wife, again, unincumbered,
can actually _enjoy_ a quarter hour, just the way Marconi may have dreamt it
to be!

Take my advise -  if you are anything like me, my condolences, and drive at
night.  After your spouse, the kids and the dogs fall off to sleep, kick in
the plates, take your readings and cue the legal.

Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, and That's Thirty.

Bill O'Neill

P.S.  Goodbye WQEW.  Keep those bottles quiet.

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