Born to Walk, Not Run

Boy, life has changed.

In 1975, “Born to Run” was my anthem, even though “Love Will Keep Us Together” won the Grammy award for best song--lasting proof of that award’s silliness.

Bruce Springsteen’s new four-CD boxed set and coming induction next year into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame got me thinking about just how much has changed since I first heard those roaring chords 23 years ago.

Back then I knew what to crank up on the eight-track. Springsteen described my life. Of course, he still does: I just had to learn to read between the lines.

So, with apologies to Bruuuuuce, down Thunder Road, through Lucky Town, all the way to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, one. . . two. . . three. . . four:

In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream. . .

Hey, in the day I sweat it out all right. In the yard. My American dream isn’t a runaway, my lawn mower is.

. . . At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines. . .

I once drove a Mitsubishi Mirage that was rear-ended twice, sideswiped once; a window was caved in by stereo-seeking thugs, the windshield was cracked by God-knows-what, and it was hit in the grill by a tire bouncing down the freeway. Don’t even think you can tell me about suicide machines. I screamed “Banzai!” every time I got in that thing.

. . . Sprung from cages out on Highway 9, chrome wheeled fuel injected and steppin’ out over the line. . .

“Honey, just steppin’ out to return the video.”

. . . Baby this town rips the bones from your back, it’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap. . .

Really, it’s not so bad. There are nice schools, lovely parks and a neighborhood watch group.

. . . We gotta get out while we’re young, ‘Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run.

Actually, we jog.

Wendy, let me in, I wanna be your friend, I want to guard your dreams and visions. . .

My wife doesn’t even let me touch the checkbook, let alone tamper with the dreams and visions.

. . . Just wrap your legs round these velvet rims and strap your hands across my engines. . .

Try love handles.

. . . Together we could break this trap. . .

Together we can retile the bathroom.

. . . We’ll run ‘til we drop, baby we’ll never look back. . .

We grocery shop ‘til we drop and hope we don’t forget anything and have to go back.

. . . Will you walk with me out on the wire. . .

“Will you take the trash out, PLEASE!”

. . . ‘Cause baby I’m just a scared and lonely rider. . .

Baby, I’m tired, bring me a beer, will ya?

. . . But I gotta know how it feels, I want to know if your love is wild, girl I want to know if love is real.

Oh, it’s real all right. Mortgage, $162,000. Carpet, $2,200. Axle boot, $800. What the heck is an axle boot, anyway?

Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard. . .

Boy, those kids drive awfully fast. What’s wrong with teen-agers today?

. . . The girls comb their hair in rear-view mirrors and the boys try to look so hard. . .

The only thing hard on this boy is the corns on his feet.

. . . The amusement park rises bold and stark. . .

Daddy, can we go to Disneyland? Can we, can we, can we?

. . . Kids are huddled on the beach in the mist. . .

Hey, what are you kids doing out there?

. . . I wanna die with you out on the streets tonight in an everlasting kiss.

With our work schedules, shaking hands is a turn-on.

The highway’s jammed with broken heroes. . .

The video player’s jammed with “Steel Magnolias.”

. . . On a last chance power drive. . .

Is it my turn to car-pool?

. . . Everybody’s out on the run tonight, but there’s no place left to hide. . .

Everybody’s coming to dinner tonight. My mother, your mother, . . . And, yes, there’s no place left to hide.

. . . Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness, I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul. . .

Sold soul years ago.

. . . Someday girl, I don’t know when, we’re going to get to that place where we really want to go and we’ll walk in the sun. . .

We’re there, and sometimes it rains.

. . . But till then, tramps like us, baby we were born to run.

Yeah, life has changed, all right. Even Bruuuuuce has a human touch these days. Being a middle-aged suburbanite is rough. But remember, love will keep us together.