Whenever I perform this song, its more personal than one might think. I happen to have an uncle very much like the one in the song...one who loves cars and who, like myself, would be just fine sticking to the old should the new become dystopian. I know that said uncle, Bobby Ziemba, listens to music more than lyrics...so, Robert, this song was based on a short story in a car magazine about a future where motors and engines are illegal, where a young man breaks the law every week just to feel the rush of the wind and the thrill of speed... My uncle has a country place That no one knows about, He says it used to be a farm Before the motor law; On Sundays, I elude The Eyes And hop the turbine freight To far outside the Wire Where my white-haired uncle waits... Jump to the ground As the turbo slows Across the Borderline, Run like the wind As excitement shivers Up and down my spine! Down in the barn, My uncle preserved for me An old machine, for fifty-odd years; To keep it as new has been His dearest dream. I strip away the old debris That hides the shining car, A brilliant red Barchetta From a better, vanished time Fire up the willing engine, Responding with a roar Tires spitting gravel I commit my weekly crime.... Wind in my hair Shifting and drifting Mechanical music Adrenaline surge! Well-weathered leather Hot metal and oil, The scented country air Sunlight on chrome, The blur of the landscape Every nerve aware! Suddenly, ahead of me Across the mountainside, A gleaming, alloy aircar Shoots toward me, two lanes wide I spin around with shrieking tires To run the deadly race, Go screaming through the valley As another joins the chase Drive like the wind, Straining the limits Of machine and man, Laughing out loud with fear and hope Ive got a desperate plan; At the one-lane bridge I leave the giants stranded At the riverside, Race back to the farm To dream with my uncle At the fireside...
Posted on: Thu, 01 Jan 2015 18:47:57 +0000