On Being Serenaded

Every woman should date a musician at least once. Just to see what it’s like to be with an artsy type of guy.

I did just that in my first year of university. I was studying math and sciences.  Calculus and statistics and biology and physics labs. Rick was a blue-eyed, blond-haired guitarist studying communications. Recording studios, photography and video-taping interviews. I hadn’t even known studies in communications existed.

We were worlds apart in some ways.  I aimed for high grades. Rick aimed to learn a new David Bowie song and studied barely enough to scrape by.

Our paths had crossed at the university pool where I lifeguarded.  I taught Rick the finesse of freestyle and side stroke.  He taught me the guitar chords for Ziggy Stardust. Rick was a welcome distraction when I studied long hours at the library. A sweet man with lofty dreams of hitting the big time with his music.

But, like most school romances, it came to an end as the spring semester drew to a close. Rick was returning home to Toronto. I was staying in Windsor. We both knew it wouldn’t have lasted. My heart wasn’t broken. But, I was sad it was over. We promised we’d stay friends and keep in touch.

I left the swimming pool that night with tears welled up in my eyes.   I got behind the wheel of my Mom’s Rabbit and started the 25 minute drive home.

I still remember my surprise at hearing the song playing on the car radio. The Rolling Stones “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”.  I can’t say it made me chuckle. I wasn’t at that point yet. But, I did appreciate how Mick Jagger’s words struck a chord with me at that exact moment in time.

I drove about a mile from the pool on Huron Church Road, a busy road crammed with transport trucks that leads to the Ambassador Bridge. This bridge connects Windsor to Detroit. Canada to the U.S. I was driving away from the bridge when a set of mismatched headlights shone brightly at me.

Then, a large boom!! I was hit! Broadsided by a pick-up truck. My chest hurt from the seatbelt being sharply pulled against me.  I was in the middle of a busy four lane road, paralyzed with shock. I had no idea what had just happened. Thoughts of my break-up with Rick left my  head instantly.

People from a nearby gas station raced to me, screaming. When they heard the sound of the impact, they thought a gas pump had exploded. Fortunately, I suffered no injuries besides bruises. The Rabbit looked much worse.

This was my third accident in a year. I feared telling my parents. Dad’s brothers had died from sudden heart attacks. What was I to do? I didn’t want to stress Dad. On the other hand, I had to get home somehow.

I nervously called home. Dad answered the phone. I asked to speak to my brother, Marty. I told Marty that Mom’s car was a wreck but I was fine. And, could he please break the news gently to Mom and Dad?

Big brothers are good at fixing things for sisters. Dad survived being told of yet another accident with me as the driver. Dad and Marty retrieved me from the far West side of town. They handled the police and insurance end of things.

We learned that a pick-up truck with a dangling head-light had been stopped at the American side of the Ambassador Bridge. The driver was charged for his hit-and-run accident with Mom’s little green Rabbit.

Dad came up with a smart idea. Since the Rabbit needed repairs, why not paint it at the same time? It was painted bright yellow. The idea was other drivers would now notice me and not hit me.

It worked. I had no further accidents in that car. And, for at least 10 years, afterwards.

I did meet up with Rick one more time when my family visited Toronto. We met briefly downtown. He was a courier. On a skateboard. Life was never boring for Rick. We never saw each other again. I moved on and I assume Rick did also.

I’m happily married now for close to 35 years. This past Christmas, my hubby, Guy asked if Santa could bring him an electric guitar. Santa made his dream come true.

Life is busy. Guy hasn’t had much time to learn a lot of chords yet. But, I’ll have a musician playing to me again soon. Guy’s always had a beautiful voice.

Yes, every woman should be serenaded by a musician at some point in her life. I hope it happens to you!

Guitar Brown Electric Guitar Epiphone Les Paul


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s