It’s September 1971 – It’s L.A. – It’s Seventeen- It’s Not Summer – It’s The Number 18 Bus.

Couldn’t wait for Summer to start – Had the whole thing planned out – Beach – Parties – Beach – road trip – More Beach – maybe love – Beach.

And then you woke up – it became September – worse; it became Monday – even worse; it became six in the morning – worst of all, it’s become School.

Forgot how it all went – the procedure – toilet – shower – dress – breakfast – wait for bus – Blue Number 18. Groans to a halt in front of your house – drops you off in front of school. You remember now.

Familiar faces trudge on – looking like one big dental appointment.

Look out the window – people going to work. Smell cigarette smoke – back of the bus – driver gives death stare in rear-view mirror. Window in the back quietly slides open. Freezing out – where went Summer?

Somebody two rows in front is happy – chatty and waving arms and hands – not you – your tan is fading – your memories aren’t. Exchanged a lot of phone numbers – made a lot of promises. You’re getting your license this year – Plymouth Barracuda with your name on it; Canary Yellow with a Black roof. Hope it’s still there in December. Dad promised – you have the part-time job at Daylight to prove it. Bagging groceries on the weekends – buck and a quarter an hour.

First period – you blocked it out of your mind – English? No – Math? No. Gym? Shit! Five laps and burpees and somebody’s idea of volleyball – on top of scrambled eggs – maybe you’ll throw up. You want a cigarette – you want coffee – coffee and a cigarette – newspaper and listening to KPPC – those were fun days. Can’t wait till adult.

Next holiday is November – eternity – you could be dead by then – world could end – knowing you, still running laps – you hope you get classes where somebody cute sits next to you. Been a sea of ugly/stinky since fifth grade – your luck has to change – you’re buying book covers this semester – even though you’ll be up to your eyeballs in paper bags you don’t want them covering your books – for a change. School emblem – go team.

Gets noisy as the bus inches to school. Comes to a stop and the clamor to empty gets started.

Last to get off – bus driver looks into rear view mirror. Glances at you – says “good luck”. You crack a nervous smile.

He knows something. He can tell.

What a squeaky clean school it is, staring you in the face. Reality is such a pisser.

And serenading your life on this day in 1971 is none other than The Carters on KPPC.

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