Last week, I was driving along on the Pasadena freeway. I took the exit at Pico Boulevard and was moving well with traffic. I had my tunes playing and I was in the groove.

All of a sudden the station played some Bobby Goldsboro song and I just had to change the dial. I reached for the knob and gave it a spin. I got some Spanish station playing some Mariachi band. “This won’t do” I actually said out loud.

Leaving my left hand on the wheel and my left knee pressing up, to keep the steering straight, I grabbed a CD and shoved it in the player. I put in a mixed selection I had created with all my favorites.

As I listened to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass play “Spanish Flea”, I moved from lane to lane weaving skillfully making great time.

When Tommy Tutone’s song ‘867-5309’ came on, I thought, “what the heck, I’m gonna call that number. I grabbed my phone, and tried to dial the numbers in the song. I moved two lanes over to the right and hit ‘dial’. I got a text message at the same time from my Grandma Bubbles. I squinted to try to read the message while that number on my phone actually answered.

“Hello???? Is someone there???” I looked at the phone, Bubble’s message was still on the screen.

Then everything went black and I lost conscience.  There had been some accident. I bet it was some old person driving the speed limit. I ended upside down… fuel leaking everywhere, Music was now changed to “Polk Salad Annie” by Tony Joe White when suddenly Matt Dillion came to my window.

“Are you alright, man?”

I answered “Oh Matt. I loved you in ‘Crash’. How ironic! Can I take a selfie of you helping me out the window?