For May’s collaboration, each participant chose a song that meant something to her. The songs were burned onto a cd, and each participant created cover art for another participants’ cd. The Playlist – I can see clearly now You can sleep while I drive No one but you Life Where is my mind Tonight and the rest of my life Wonder Bitch Little Light of Love Why can’t it be me Angel Standing By Boys of Summer The Lamenter’s Lament Babylon How You’ve Grown Sand and Water
This cover art was created by Kristal.
Nobody on the road
Nobody on the beach
I feel it in the air
The summer’s out of reach
Empty lake, empty streets
The sun goes down alone
I’m drivin’ by your house
Though I know you’re not home
Summer, 1986. I was 18 years old and though I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up (and in fact still don’t), I was young and carefree and hadn’t a worry in the world.
At least, that’s how I remember it.
But I can see you, your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
You got your hair combed back and your sunglasses on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone
My best friend Liz and I spent that summer, that humid, sticky, hot summer, cruising around. We went to Old Orchard Beach, the biggest tourist trap around. We yelled at cute guys from our windows, and upon occasion, whoever wasn’t driving would drink.
I never will forget those nights
I wonder if it was a dream
Remember how you made me crazy
Remember how I made you scream
Now I don’t understand what happened to our love
But babe, I’m gonna get you back
I’m gonna show you what I’m made of
With no air conditioning in either of our cars – it was Maine, for crying out loud. Summer lasts twenty minutes. Who the hell needs air conditioning? – we drove around with the windows wide open and the music blasting. Most of the time we listened to the radio, and Don Henley’s Boys of Summer was all over the airwaves that July, August, September.
I can see you, your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
I see you walkin’ real slow and you’re smilin’ at everyone
I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone
In Lewiston we drove up Lisbon Street, took a right onto Maple, a left onto Knox, a right on Spruce, a left on Bates, a left on Ash – where The Cage, a hopping bar, or so we believed, was located – back on to Lisbon Street again, a hop on to Canal Street back to the beginning, and around and around and around we went.
We called it "The Area".
"Ready to go home?" one of us would say when the night had been relatively calm. The other would stare out the window and then suggest "One more drive around The Area, and then we’ll go home."
Something invariably happened on that one last drive.
Out on the road today, I saw a Dead-head sticker on a Cadillac
A little voice inside my head said
Don’t look back, you can never look back
I thought I knew what love was
What did I know
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but
On one of those one last drives, we passed two guys hitchhiking. Like the dumbasses we were, we stopped and picked them up, and then went back to their house. We were 18, they were in their mid-twenties. They were pretty drunk. We sat in their living room and talked, then one of them – Steve? – leaned in and kissed me.
In my naivete, I thought he tasted and smelled like apple wine, but in my later years I realized it was beer.
Steve tried to talk me into going into his room, and I wouldn’t. After hearing enough of his begging and whining, Liz got up and dragged me out of the house.
I can see you, your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
You got that top pulled down and that radio on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone
On another of those last drives, we were approached by some pissed-off rednecks (yes, the northeast has it’s share of rednecks) with baseball bats. They’d been unhappy with my yelled "Oh, I’m so impressed!" when they sat beside us at a red light as they revved the engine of the crappy old car they were driving. When they jumped out of their car with bats in hand, we gaped at them for an eternity before I slammed my car in reverse and sped down the street away from them.
Most of the time, though, our cruises were fairly uneventful. We’d often run into our friend from work at McDonald’s, Tuna, and his friends, and we’d follow each other around, park and talk for a while, then drive around some more. One night, Tuna rearranged the letters on the sign at Burger King – remember when they were doing that lame "Where’s Herb?" campaign? – to read "Herb Gots Aids."
It took the people at Burger King well into the next day to change the sign back.
I can see you, your brown skin shinin’ in the sun
You got that hair slicked back and those Wayfarers on, baby I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone
We were young and carefree, and we did silly things and stupid things, and we laughed until we howled most nights. It’s been almost 16 years since that summer, but all it takes to bring me back are the first few seconds of Boys of Summer. In an instant, I’m transported back to the night in early September when the air held the slightest chill of the coming Fall. Liz turned to me, and with the memories of the summer still in our minds and Don Henley blasting on the radio, she smiled.
"This is our song, Robbie," she said.
And it is.
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