When I was growing up, my dad loved to tell the story about my mom singing along to a song. “Oh, a tree in motion!” she would croon. Dad would laugh, as he told us that the lyrics really were, “Poetry in motion.”
I seem to have inherited my mom’s trouble with lyrics. One day, years ago, while my oldest daughter was riding in the car with me, we were singing along to a Beach Boys song. All of a sudden, my daughter turned to me and asked, “What did you just say?”
“She’s my little blue scoop.” As my daughter erupted in laughter, I added, “Why?”
“Little deuce coupe, Mom! What’s a blue scoop?”
“I don’t know. A cute little car?”
She’s never let me live that one down.
Fast forward five or six years. This time, I’m riding in the car with my youngest daughter. She bursts out laughing, not at my singing, but at what she heard from the radio.
“Mom, they’re singing a song about a douche!”
“No, they’re not!”
“Well, what are they saying?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure it can’t be ‘douche.’”
Once back home, I googled the lyrics. Turns out, “Blinded by the Light” actually says, “Revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night.”
Apparently my brain doesn’t recognize “deuce” in any song. From now on, if I can’t determine a word in a song, I’m going with “deuce.” You know the song, “Louie, Louie”? It’s my sneaking suspicion that the song is about a little deuce coupe!
Thanks for music, laughter, and memories.