#8: When Your Fingers Can’t Leave The Radio Dial…

As a dad, husband, son-in-law, comic book fanboy, etc., I spend a great deal of time on the road – in  a mini-van, ‘natch – and I usually love driving around my fair city.

Except when there’s nothing on the radio.

Before you say, “Get a satellite radio, Hook!”, let me tell you, at the end of the month there is barely enough for comics and Coca-Cola, let alone luxuries/necessities like satellite radio! I manage to scrounge together enough to keep my daughter in graphic t-shirts and Monster High purses, but at the end of the day, I’m poor, dammit!

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Getting back to my plain, old-fashioned radio, I’ve  lost track of the number of trips that went something like this…

1. Get in the van and start off on the open road.
2. Turn the radio on.
3. Hit a button and discover some crappy rap song about bitches and hos. I’m not gangsta enough for songs about bitches and hos, thankfully.
4. Hit another button and face an audio assault from that punk kid with the lesbian haircut! You know who I’m talking about!
5. Hit another button and find a great song – that’s ending!
6. Hit another button.
7. And another.
8. Discover “I Touch Myself” by The Divinyls and wrestle with the moral implications of not hitting the button!
9. Hit another button – again!
10. And another.
11. JACKPOT! A great song. Just in time too, because…
12. I  arrive at my destination – and scream at my radio!

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