Play I Some Music, Just Like a Mighty Dread

I wave at a taxi turning onto Las Heras from the other side of the crosswalk.  The driver  stalls and smiles at me as I cross the street, walking behind the car and opening the passenger-side backseat door.  I tell him my destination, and he puts the car into gear and turns up the music.

I hear the smooth horns and the rattle of a tambourine playing an introduction to Bob Marley’s beautiful voice coming through the car speakers.

Oh please, don’t you rock my boat, cause I don’t, want my boat, to be rocking.”

I can’t stop myself from singing along with the Wailers’ backup vocals.

Rock my boatI like it like thisSatisfy my soul.”

All I ever really wanted to be was a Wailer.

The cab driver turns around and says “ahh, te gusta Bob?”

I smile.  “Si, che, me encanta.”  Che is overly familiar, but we are clearly kindred spirits.

I lean back and let it flow.  We are cruising to the music.  The car is our spaceship and we’re on a journey through time and space and everything is perfect.  I close my eyes, and transport myself back to my childhood.  I’m with my family, driving down a lonely highway on a long road trip.  It is dark out, and the music is our only entertainment.  We don’t speak, we don’t argue.  We just lay back and listen to some reggae.  Dad would fill the six CD changer with Bob Marley’s Legend and let it play.

If you met my Dad, you wouldn’t guess that he loves reggae.  But he does.

Reggae was the music that made my young self realize that my parents were people before they had children.  There was a time when they had fewer responsibilities, and didn’t live their lives under the constant vigilance of impressionable young eyes.  I always wondered what it would be like to take a ride back from the future and meet my parents when they were just people.  Some parts of their pre-parent lives crossed over, but I only saw brief glimpses of this during Bob Marley serenaded road trips and on the rare occasion I could persuade Dad to tell us about his fraternity days.

The taxi arrived at the destination too soon.  I wasn’t ready for my sweet little reggae road trip to be over.  I paid the price on the meter, and while the driver was fumbling for change, I wanted to tell him that while we traveled from Las Heras to Juan B Justo, I traveled back to my childhood.  I wanted to tell him that the song induced the melodic comfort of my fondest memories and that listening to good music in the car is life’s most underrated joy.  But there was no point in saying it aloud.  He already knew.

Instead I just smiled and sang along: “Satisfy my soul.”

Satisfied, indeed.

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About MyBeautifulAir

Wherever I go, there I am.
This entry was posted in La Musica, My Life and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Play I Some Music, Just Like a Mighty Dread

  1. Is that like Hank Thompson, Ernest Tubbs or Mozart?

  2. Tia says:

    One of your best yet.

  3. Esmeralda says:

    What a lovely short story!

  4. Josefin says:

    Beware of long comment coming!

    I am thrilled to have found your blog! I’ve been googling away for two days trying to find blogs on life in Buenos Aires, and yours truly has everything – the way you write, what you blog about and posts accompanied by beautiful pictures.
    Here’s the thing – I’m a 23 year old female art history student, living in Sweden. My mother is half Argentinian, half Swedish so when I graduated high school I went to live with my grandmother in Buenos Aires for three months. Best thing I’ve ever done. Since then I’ve been suffering from post-Buenos Aires-anxiety and I recently decided to make my dream come true – when I’m finished with my studies in the beginning of next year I will move to the most wonderful city in all of the world.

    Even though I have previous experience of the city I’ve just grown more curious of it since I made my life changing decision. This is why I’m happy to have found your blog, it’s great to get little guides and tips from a person that seem to be somewhat like me – in the meaning of having sort of the same tastes in food and restaurants, cultural preferences and so on.

    My life in the city when I was 19 was very much dictated by my grandmother, and this time I will be a lot more independent. Because of this it’s a bit more scary, considering I don’t really know that many people in Buenos Aires. My spanish is a bit, if not very, rusty and I was wondering if you perhaps know any good/cool places to meet people, perhaps english speaking? By this I mean I would really like to avoid the Pub Crawls arranged by the hostels.

    Thanks! And of course, Great blog! Continue doing what you do.

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