The Music of the Car Seat Babies

When the oil light popped on, I played that mental game of ‘how long should I go before I get the oil changed?’ Since I was already out and about, I decided to seize the moment, get the oil changed and move on with life. As luck, or as I later came to understand as karma would have it, I saw an Uncle Ed’s Oil Change shop about a quarter of mile up the street. I pulled into the area, was motioned in by one of the attendants and safely stopped my car over the oil change area.

I was greeted by a twenty something young man who, politely welcomed me, talked me through my needs and proceeded to do all the standard checks before starting the oil change process. With the engine off, I took out my cellphone and began playing ‘wordscapes’ to pass, what I knew would be a short amount of time. It was then that my senses, listening, awareness and observation melded into one focused moment of curiosity. As I tuned into the music being heard throughout the facility, I became keenly aware that I was hearing music that represented my generation of dance, street corner crooning, young romance, and broken hearts. I realized that the music I was hearing was much older than the young men and women who were working at the Uncle Ed’s, yet they sighed, sang, and swayed as if they had attended the local 476, The Greystone Ballroom and the 20 Grand! My curiosity always gets the better of me, so I waved the young man over to the car. ‘Jeff’ was printed on his nametag.

“Hey, Jeff. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you seem a little too young to know about the music that’s playing. I assume your boss is the one who made the selection.”

“No sir, Mr. Meadows,” he said. “I picked it because I grew up on this music. In fact, all of us listen to this playlist.”

“Jeff, I am guessing you are 23, 24. How could you have grown up on music that was already nostalgic long before you were born?”

He laughed. “That’s easy. I’m a car seat baby. This was the only music my dad played when I was riding with him. Whenever he’d go out, he’d strap me in the car seat, turn on his music and we’d ride. I really didn’t know there was other kinds of music until I was eight or nine. Motown, groups like Chicago, Blood Sweat and Tears, Earth Wind and Fire and others was all I knew.”

I chuckled. “You learned some music history at an early age.”

“He used to drive my mom crazy whenever she and my older sister were riding with us. She’d try to put on some Disney music CD’s, but dad was insistent! I still remember him saying, There’s no music better than this! Of course, there came a time when I was old enough to ride without the car seat and around that time, I would beg my dad to PLEASE listen to something else. He never did.”

“You were being tortured?”

“I was trapped. My only escape started when I was given an Ipod. Then I started to branch out and discover music that I like. I stayed away from this music for years just because I heard it so much when I was in the car seat.”

I smiled. “Yet, you’re listening to it now.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I enjoy it a lot more, not just because it’s great music, but it brings back great memories of being with my dad.”

“How so?” I asked.?

“It wasn’t just the music; it was the adventures I had when my dad and I were out and about. He took me everywhere! Some places we still haven’t told my mom about. We were always out doing things. There was this one time we happen to see an accident on the side of the road. My dad pulled over to help. He managed to get the man and woman out of the car and had them sit down. The woman was visibly shaking, so my dad told me to hold her hand. I did and she started to calm down. I remember the incident because just before we pulled over to help, we were listening to Respect by Aretha Franklin. I could have been more than eight, and yet there I was helping to calm down a perfect stranger. Now, I can't listen to Respect without the memory of helping that lady.” He paused. “Not just the music, but the memories of a car seat baby.”

“What’s your dad doing now?” I asked.

He laughed again, “You missed him by about ten minutes. He’s out and about with my nephew, his grandson.”

“And?” I said knowing something great was about to be said.

“My 3-year-old nephew knew the words to ‘My Girl’ before he knew the alphabet.”

It turned out to be the easiest tip I’ve left for 3 Car Seat Babies working in an oil change shop.