Drive Down Memory Lane

     Recently, my mom and sister left the east coast to come out for a visit with me in the wild west.  I took the week off from work and decided that there was no way we were spending our entire vacation in the land of redwoods, rednecks, weed and hippies.  We rented a place down in Sonoma County the land of wine and yuppies. 
     On our trip down we stopped in heart marijuana growing country, Mendocino, to get some gas.  The station was packed  and we had to wait for a pump.  When it was our turn, some lady blew right past us and stole our pump.  That's when the back seat erupted with good ol' New York road rage.  My sister, Katy's, hands were reinforcing her four letter word assault.  The lady in the dented piece of crap pickup truck scowled at us with her what are you going to do about it look.  Now, I don't have a problem standing my ground but I like to pick my battles.  I sized up my opponent, who was smaller then me, and decided to shut my sister up.  This lady probably had more loaded guns under her seat then the four teeth in her head.  There was no doubt that she could pull me out of my car and kick my ass into next Tuesday while stuffing her lower lip full of chew (chewing tobacco). 
     When we pulled out of the gas station, alive, I thought about our old family road trips.  We would head up to the mountains in Upstate New York which equated to about eight hours of my sister and I fighting and beating the crap out of each other in the back seat.  Dad would threaten to pull over or turn the car around or the one that really got us to stop fighting... he would attempt to smack us while driving.  His arm would sort of  spastically bang in between the front seats, with no chance of hitting us.  We couldn't stand how hysterical it was and would stop fighting. 
    When we grew bored of fighting we would sing songs that we made up or heard somewhere.  I never really thought about it until we were on this recent road trip that maybe our songs were not your typical kid sing-a-longs.  We weren't singing karaoke to Raffi's songs about bubbling bubbles or about 99 bottles of beer on the wall or some cliché fart songs.  We created songs that were real.  Real like hemorrhoids, yeast infections and the Summer's Eve Douche commercial theme song. 
    Twenty five years later we still knew every word.  Just like old times we serenaded our Mom on the open road.  "I'm dreaming of summer, cool breezes fresh air.  When I think of summer, Summer's Eve takes me there.  That clean, fresh, feeling keeps the good times on my mind.  Summer's Eve, brings back freshness every time."   It was like we were five and ten years old again, wearing sweat pant outfits with kittens on them except now, I was in the driver's seat.  
     Why would a couple of kids dig the Summer's Eve commercial theme song so much?  Two things: 1) We couldn't resist the farty commercial of the extremely happy lady swinging around on her tree swing to the tune  2) A story our Aunt had told us about a road trip with her beagle who had a not so fresh moment.  My aunt had to make an emergency stop to buy some feminine deodorant spray to restore the summer breezes and fresh air to her dog's derrière. 

     The other song was a masterpiece we created all on our own.  We called the little ditty "Hemorrhoid Flare Up" and it goes a little something like this...  "Hemorrhoid Flare Up.  Sitting on a doughnut.  Lady behind us sitting on a doughnut.  Yeast infection, getting lots of itches, getting lots of kisses kissing up to you too!"   Yeah, we made that up, all by ourselves. 
    Over and over and over again we would sing those songs in the back seat.  I asked Mom what she thought about our cherished childhood songs and if she thought that maybe they were a little unique.  She bluntly answered "Yeah they were weird but you would stop fighting and kicking the seats".  And that folks, is a childhood trip without a DVD player in the back seat.


Looking for some wedding singers that know only two songs? 
Call us, The Summer's Eve Sisters. 

 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com November 13, 2013