I do a lot of driving.

Not in a “Fast & Furious” way.

More in a “middle-aged man silently evaluating his life at red lights” kind of way.

Driving isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

It’s actually one of the last socially acceptable ways to be alone.

Just you…

The road…

And the radio.

Or nowadays, your playlist.

Which is basically cheating.

Because when we were kids, the radio was a gamble.

You could get Springsteen…

Or you could get two straight hours of Ace of Base and a DJ yelling about mattress liquidation.

Now?

Now your playlist only plays songs you like.

It’s like emotional DoorDash.

And it was during one of these long drives — one of those quiet stretches where your brain starts wandering into places it has no business going — that three songs hit me.

The first two came back-to-back.

The third one came later, and I had to search for it like it was a missing piece of my existential puzzle.

And suddenly I realized…

These songs weren’t random.

This wasn’t shuffle.

This was the Music Gods grabbing me by the collar and saying:

“Hey buddy… let’s talk about your life timeline.”

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Song #1: “Born to Run” – Bruce Springsteen

This song carries you from the moment you graduate high school until about age 25.

This is the era where everything feels possible.

You’re young.

You’re restless.

You think the highway is basically a religious experience.

Springsteen makes it sound like youth is:

• loud music
• leather jackets
• escape velocity
• adrenaline
• running toward something you can’t even name yet

And the funny thing is…

I wasn’t even a car guy.

I didn’t have some juiced-up muscle car.

I didn’t have a town I needed to break free from.

I wasn’t fleeing oppression.

I was mostly fleeing boredom.

But the feeling was still there.

That early-life itch.

That sense that you weren’t looking for a career…

You were looking for a quest.

And money wasn’t even part of the equation.

Things were cheaper back then.

Minimum wage could buy you:

• gas
• food
• a concert ticket
• beer

You weren’t running from anything…

You were running toward something.

And it didn’t matter what that something was.

You just knew it was out there.

Somewhere beyond the next exit.

---

But then…

I didn’t get that far.

I went to college.

I ran track.

I worked.

You know…

Responsible things.

The kind of stuff that slowly replaces rebellion with routine.

Still…

It’s nice to look back and remember what it felt like to be young enough to take chances without needing to stretch first.

---

Song #2: “Middle of the Road” – The Pretenders

This one picks you up in your late 20s and drags you through your 30s and even into your 40s.

And this is when you realize…

The road isn’t a highway anymore.

It’s a four-lane interstate with construction.

And a guy holding a sign that says:

EXPECT DELAYS

You are no longer running.

You are:

• scheduling
• budgeting
• buying ibuprofen in bulk
• stretching before folding a fitted sheet

You still have dreams…

Sure.

But now your dreams have to fit between:

• work
• kids
• emails
• and that weird noise your furnace is making

You’re far too young to quit…

But also far too tired to start over.

You’re in the middle of the road.

Not young enough to be reckless.

Not old enough to be wise.

Just…

Existing in the great strip mall of adulthood.

This is the age where you become a person who says things like:

“We should probably leave by 6 to beat traffic.”

That’s not rebellion.

That’s a carefully optimized departure strategy.

And then one day…

It happens.

You find yourself in Walmart buying cushiony insoles.

And you don’t even feel shame.

You feel gratitude.

---

Song #3: “A Pirate Looks at 40” – Jimmy Buffett

And then the third song hits.

And now…

You’ve got stories.

Some heroic, well, semi-heroic.

Some questionable.

Some that begin with:

“I cannot believe we thought that was a good idea.”

You realize the dream was never really about being a pirate…

It was about wanting life to feel like an adventure.

But instead, you got:

• car insurance
• back pain
• a drawer full of mystery charger cords
• your favorite water bottle
• and a deep emotional connection to comfortable seating

This is the age where you go to a concert…

And instead of screaming lyrics…

You think:

“Should we bring earplugs?”

Earplugs.

At a concert.

Because your ears are now delicate Victorian flowers.

You are two hundred years too late for piracy.

Also too tired.

The only thing you pillage now is the fridge at 9:30 PM.

---

And That’s the Timeline

Three songs.

Played in the right order.

And suddenly you’re thrown back through your whole life.

I don’t have a fourth song yet.

And I’m not a pirate looking for treasure.

At 20, treasure was freedom.

At 35, treasure was money.

At 60?

Treasure is…

Eight uninterrupted hours of sleep.

No cramps.

No crying kids.

No waking up at 3:12 AM to think about something you said in 2009.

That is the real buried gold.

And restaurants…

My God…

Since when did I start choosing restaurants based on…

ample parking?

When did that happen?

At what point did my brain stop thinking:

“Does this place have vibe?”

…and start thinking:

“Do they have a flat entrance and minimal walking from our Mini-Van”

I used to want a table by the window.

Now I want a table near the exit.

I used to want adventure.

Now I want…

reasonable noise levels.

And if the parking lot looks confusing?

Forget it.

That’s not dinner.

That’s an expedition.

So no…

I’m not a pirate looking at 40.

I’m a former dreamer looking at Applebee’s like:

**“Plenty of spaces.
Good lighting.
No surprises.

This might be the treasure.”

• Ramblings