Running On Empty

Running On Empty 

Jackson Browne sang these lyrics, Lookin back at the years gone by like so many summer fields, for the first time in 1977. One year later, I’m listening to his iconic tune, “Running On Empty” as Browne’s voice reverberated off the interior concrete walls of Akron University’s boy's on-campus dormitory, Bulger Hall. This is where I called home for two years, not that I spent much time there. I recall on that one beautifully sunny autumn day when I laced up my walking shoes and made my way to downtown Akron and just kept going. This was my first venture along the city’s Market Street, but it would not be my last. Mesmerized by turn-of-the-century architecturally designed mansions enroute, I envisaged what these must have been like back in their prime. There was no problem with my not owning a car. I just heeded the call to “Go West Young Man” and besides, by walking, I was able to take so much more of this once vibrant city suburb in. 

There was a destination in mind; The Quonsen Hut located about seven miles away. I listened to how others had raved about this store’s wide selection of LPs and that they could be bought for a reasonable price. My monthly budget at the time being twenty dollars, thanks to my grandmother sending news from home and money. God bless her! I think of my grandmother regularly and because of her concern for my welfare, I had a couple extra dollars to spend on an album. 

At the top of my shopping list was Jackson Browne’s album, with the drum set in the foreground and the road stretching out into the distance from there, and how appropriate seeing how I am a drummer. Even though I only made just the one purchase, I spent hours browsing the vast inventory on display in the rows of deep-seated boxed shelving; silently making a mental note of what would be my purchase on my return visit. 

I don’t know when that road turned onto the road I’m on.  

Reflecting back on these lyrics, time sped on and LPs became 8-Track tapes, which provided your favorite albums to be listened to whilst out driving.  Those boxed tapes slimmed down to cassettes, which were easier to carry around and less expensive to purchase, and you could produce your own music mix. And yes, I carted an entire box of cassette tapes in my journey to New Zealand. Listening to them I couldn’t tell if it was real (Ella Fitzgerald) or Memorex, but the kiwis had no doubt that “The Yank” and his “Merican Music” had arrived. 

Then, just as I was feeling secure with my “cutting edge” music library, blank or recorded cassettes were no longer available for sale. One now had a choice of burning CDs or DVDs. I understood the logic behind the industry moving on to a format that would reputedly last forever and provide digitally enhanced sound. Plus, it was never a good day when my cassette player “ate” the magnetic strip, which would find me rewinding the cassette with the eraser end of a pencil in an attempt to save it. So, I moved along with technology and recreated my music library, considerably expanding it so that I owned almost seven hundred discs. My anal-retentive tendencies rose to the fore and after a while, every song in my library was categorized in an Excel spreadsheet. The effort was worthwhile as it brought me great joy watching my young daughters flipping through the three-ring binder that held my music index. It wouldn’t take them too long before finding the songs that they wanted me to play for them. 

Lookin out at the road rushin under my wheels. I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels. 

Crazy as it seems, leaving New Zealand after twenty-six years of residency, I left my entire music CD library behind. My efforts have not been lost to antiquity though, as now my good mate down under enjoys my music as he winds his semi-truck and trailer through the city. What seemed like a loss at first has actually proven to be a boon for me as the music industry has evolved once again, and now I easily shuffle through 7500 titles through a streaming service. Looking back over the years, my music library today is infinitely more diverse and so much easier to manage and customize. 

I was actually listening to “Running On Empty” in my ear buds through a streaming service as I trained to run my first marathon. In 2014, I was fifty-four years old and struggling to train past the eighteen-mile mark. This is despite having run a half marathon the year previously; training to run 26.2 miles is a whole different exercise. At the eighteen-mile mark, I would usually face plant in the grass of our front yard and lie there until every piece part of my body agreed it was time to move again. So, I consulted the marathon pros at my local Second Sole store, asking them how to push past this barrier. I explained how I was running on empty after eighteen miles. The kind attendants tried not to snicker whilst explaining to me that NOBODY runs a marathon while training for a marathon. I put my faith in their advice and on race day, I was able to push through my previous barrier. Mind you, the end of the course was on the flat and then all downhill, on that very same majestic Market Street from decades past, until arriving at the finish line in downtown Akron. 

Fast forward, if you will, to this past February, when we were about to depart from our beachfront condo just outside Pensacola, Florida and travel west. It had been a good place to spend the worst six weeks of winter, but it was time to move on. With an early start, we had our feet on Bourbon Street, New Orleans by noon. I’d visited the French Quarter on a couple occasions before, but never this close to Mardi Gras. Talking about ticking it up a notch or two, it turned out to be an interesting experience, but next time, I’ll be visiting at a more sedate time of the year.  

That had been a full day for us and as evening set in, and there being no accommodation in The Big Easy, I drove a further hour west to our hotel in Baton Rouge. We arrived late, tired, and hungry. I quickly found a highly rated local take-out restaurant and went in search of food. Navigating dark alleys, my focus was totally on the dimly lit road, that is until the petrol light shown on my dashboard screen. “Ah!” I thought. “Make a mental note to fill up with petrol first thing in the morning.” 

As we had a long drive ahead of us the next day to arrive at our next destination, Houston, Texas, we were on US 10 heading west not long after the sun had risen. The conditions were a mixture of fog and rain. I found myself driving on a two-lane highway, with no shoulder for it was actually a low-lying bridge over a bayou. There were semis in front and back of me and in the passing lane. I was effectively pinned against the concrete barrier when my dashboard lit up again with its friendly reminder that I had twelve miles left before my tank would be running on empty. We frantically started searching online for the nearest petrol station, as I had not long driven past the station opposite our hotel. About five miles later, an exit ramp suddenly appeared on my right and swerving from behind the truck in front of me to not miss this exit ramp, I coast to the stop sign and was never so thankful to see an angel-inspired petrol station on the corner. My heart rate slowly returned to a more normal rhythm as we had surely dodged a very unsavory situation. I do not want to fathom what a broken-down vehicle on that bridge, in the rain, would look like. As it turns out, there was not another gas station for hours and for most of the time that morning we traveled on causeways over water. Looking back, I should’ve taken a spin at the casino, which was tacked on to the back of the gas station building, for it was truly my lucky day! 

Tomorrow I’ll undergo surgery, which all going well, will see me indisposed for a number of weeks, if not several months. I find myself, once again, running on empty. And therefore, I will be placing my social media postings on hold. This might make some people happy, others sorry for my absence, but I need to focus on fully recuperating. These next few months will also provide me with the time needed to complete my sequel, “Gilded! A Novelization of the Life of John Hiram Beckley”. So, let’s connect again in Spring once I’ve got a completed manuscript and a full tank. 

I’d love to stick around, but I’m runnin behind. Runnin into the sun, but I’m runnin behind.