By TRINA SEVERSON
Guest Columnist
Awhile back, I was pulled over for speeding. I try to be accountable for my actions, but this time, it really wasn’t my fault. Well, maybe it was. I made bad choices and got busted. That’s really all there is to it.
Parents, teachers, and preachers have warned us all for years about the dangers of peer pressure and loud rock-n-roll. I should have listened. And looking back, I’m still shocked my own kids were such bad influences on me that night.
What got me in trouble with the law that night involves Billy Joel’s 1973 hit, “Piano Man.” That classic most of us know and can sing along to, even if we can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Well, my kids liked Billy Joel, and songs of his that told a story, like “We Didn’t Start the Fire” and “Piano Man” were favorites they quickly memorized.
They had a little confusion about the lyrics at first, wanting to know things like, “Why do they put bread in his jar?”
Somewhere along the way, we’d started belting out Piano Man’s last verse: “AND THE PIANO SOUNDS LIKE A CARNIVAL …” We’d sing it loudly, wherever we were. Waiting at the stoplight? Go ahead, let ‘em stare. If they’re any fun, they’ll sing with us.
But, like they say, it’s all fun and games until someone ends up with a moving violation. Okay, maybe they don’t say exactly that. And how hard is it to sing loudly and obey speed limits? Well…
On that fateful night, I’d become lost in the moment. (Oddly enough, it was about 9 o’clock on a Saturday). I was driving a new Toyota that handled like a dream. A smooth ride, so easy to glide along. It was as if I was hardly moving.
The whole family was along, kids buckled safely in the back. Our tunes played at a nice, reasonable volume. All was well. But then, Piano Man began. “Turn it up Mom!” The kids begged over the harmonica intro. They started to sing. “Louder!” I complied.
We sang and swayed in karaoke fashion as we tooled down the highway. The kids giggled in anticipation as our verse came closer. (The manager gave him a smile…). Then, the music swelled and we belted it out: “And the piano sounds like a carnival!” Loudly. We drowned Joel’s vocals out completely. It was probably our best performance yet. I glanced in the rear-view mirror to smile and throw high-fives at my laughing daughters. That’s when I saw the flashing lights of the state trooper’s car.
“So,” the officer asked as he peered inside. “Why were you speeding?”
(Big sigh) I hesitated. Would it sound like a smart aleck made-up story if I told him the truth? I could only imagine how many bizarre excuses he’d heard over the years, tucked in between the usual “late for work, having a baby, the breakfast menu ends at 10.” I exhaled and went for it. “You know that song, ‘Piano Man’?”
In this case, the truth set me free. Big thanks to that state trooper, wherever he may be, for listening to my ridiculous-but-honest story and letting me off with a just a warning. My girls are young women now, but we still belt out that last verse together. Even if I’m behind the wheel.
But I’ve learned from my mistake. Now, if “Piano Man” plays, I set the cruise control.