Whenever that music starts, my vision clouds and my mind projects a different image before me. I try ignoring it, but my focus on the imagined more often than not supersedes that which is right in front of me. Not so bad when I’m at my leisure, but at the wheel of a speeding car it can be unfortunate and unwise. As if I have a choice when the music moves from my ears to my eyes. And when the last strains of the song fade into the first of the next, I wonder how I got from there to here. No, not from mile marker 12 to 16. Too often, I look for the answer assisted by a memory as full of skips and repeats as an old LP played over the highway’s tarstrip heartbeat. 14, 15, 14, 15… 14 years, 15 years… Exit ahead. Here I am. Again. Still.