Two cars returning to Santa Barbara after a day swimming in the upper Santa Ynez River sailed over the crest of the San Marcos Pass on Hwy 154 at ~75 - 80 mph.  We weren't racing and there wasn't any stodgy traffic that needed passing in the wide spot at the top of the hill, we were just travelling a familiar winding road at a fun speed.  We were driving Honda Civics.  I was in the car in front and my sister was about 6 car lengths behind.  With no traffic visable ahead we didn't let up much for the first turn—a gentle right.  As we zipped into the beginning of the turn we could begin to see what was beyond.  The entire 2 lanes of pavement was blocked by a wreck.  We braked heavily; which was kinda tricky since we had immediately moved to the unpaved shoulder to avoid any vehicles from behind that couldn't stop as fast as us.   It was a one car accident.  The 1970's Cadillac Coup de Ville was laying on its side, perpenicular to the roadway, steaming and smoking, blocking the whole roadway.  We came to a stop about 20' away.   The accident had obviously happened the very minute before.  I jumped out and started to run for the car.  I'd been an ambulance driver and open water lifeguard and always carried a 'seatbelt knife' for just these situations.  The fuel smell was heavy and the oil smoke was thick.  I thought it was probably going to burn.  I was concerned because I'd not yet seen the passengers and no one else was approaching the car to help.  I only went about 4 big steps when these four young guys hopped out through the driver's side windows.  They laughed hilariously.  The onlookers laughed.  I laughed.  I didn't need to tell them to stand clear and watch for downhill traffic coming around that blind curve, because they immediately rocked the car a little then pushed it back on its wheels.  They piled back in, and to everybody's amazement drove off, burning rubber, hooting and hollering out of sight.  In all, the whole event didn't take two minutes.  They didn't get the brand new car, but I've always felt that scene needed to be on a video of "Crawling from the Wreckage".

As stunningly unpleasant as it was in '69 when I couldn't reach the volume control quickly enough so I drove my car into a tree intentionally.

Saw in concert Norman, OK. early 70's. So high I rolled out of my seat and into lap of most beautiful blond, she wrapped her arms around me to stop my roll so naturally I did the same . Looking into her eyes it was love at first sight. Then looking to the left was her date a muscly O.U. football player and the love affair
came to an end much too soon!

I was just reading through the comments for Camper's "She Divines Water," a solid 8 from me, and just being shocked SHOCKED at the huge number of low ratings and then here comes William having a laugh about "yeah it has a lot of haters but every time I play it, maybe one of them says hey it's actually pretty good"

So yeah if you want to see 22+ years worth of "aaaaagh that violin!" followed by "the best song ever" .... check it out.

I was just reading through the comments for Camper's "She Divines Water," a solid 8 from me, and just being shocked SHOCKED at the huge number of low ratings and then here comes William having a laugh about "yeah it has a lot of haters but every time I play it, maybe one of them says hey it's actually pretty good"

So yeah if you want to see 22+ years worth of "aaaaagh that violin!" followed by "the best song ever" .... check it out.

20-odd years ago, I left my beloved Wellington seaside community (hey there, Breaker Bay) to study in Australia.  To help say goodbye to so many people I loved so much I organised an informal night of music at the local hall, with lots of friends providing the music.  The final act was a 5-piece (or maybe 6) band brought along by my friend Robbie Duncan {bandcamp link added by SFW}.  I remember standing at the hall door watching as they carried all this big time gear into the hall during the set up.  Amps, speakers, keyboards, mixing desk, mic stands, lots of drums and guitar cases, cables everywhere.  And thinking "What the hell have I done?  This was supposed to be acoustic!".

The early part of the night went better than my wildest dreams.  By the time the final act came on, about 100 people were laughing, singing, dancing and having a great time.  I was standing at the back of the hall, musical duties over and pleasantly ripped thinking "This will be interesting, could go either way" when they launched into a cover of this song as their opening number.

Well, sometimes, the universe just comes up with things so special we are transported by the moment.  The band was tight from the first notes, the female lead singer nailed the vocals, all that fancy gear and sound system sounded incredible, the hall's acoustics were just right and the room went off.  I remember turning to my friend Kerry, no lover of the commercial pop song, and we both had huge smiles because everything was so right.  It sounded and felt fantastic.

Now, it may be cheesy.  It may be clichéd.  It may be commercial pop.  But if anyone slags this song within my hearing I will take them aside and forcefully explain how I once saw a performance of it define a moment for 100 people.  And yes, maybe you had to be there and possibly stimulant-affected but for those who were, it was transcendent.

Everyone's special music has it's own story.  Let's listen to it knowing that we all have our own stories, or gracefully PSD if you can't.  But let's stop dissing people here because their stories are different from ours.  We have social media and politicians for that.
Full respect to Bill and Rebecca!

Turns out it was the chorizo.

Well they're doing a "retro" thing just like Sha Na Na doing 50s music in the 70s, these kids are doing, um, 70s music in the, um, 20s and that hurts some of us in our hearts or maybe that's the chorizo I'm feeling.

Some old guy called SfW

With some trepidation I thought I'd have a look at the comments, but I'm delighted to see that most folk share the same adoration for this remarkable track and album. It is exquisite, and will no doubt be playing quietly in the back of my mind when I finally draw my last breath as it's been the theme tune to much of my life.

This was one of my father’s favorite albums. He passed at 87 last November. Will always remember cranking this up with him. Funny thing is, he was a professional jazz bass player. Blew me away when he asked me to get him a copy of this album when it came out. Great memories. Miss you dad.

Plodding. Dull. Bombastic. Pretentious. Artless.

Just the best. So uplifting to be exposed to all these diverse tunes throughout the day. So many of them just beg to have me interrupt my work and get up and dance (or at least sit up and dance - I'm in a wheelchair at present). This brings back a trip to Europe when I was 12, turning 13 while away, and my mother taught me to dance the Rumba box step. Well, she had actually taught me years earlier but, now that I was becoming a 'young lady', she let me join her in The Palmcourt, which was the lounge on the ocean liner, and danced with me, and let me stay up quite late, joining her while she enjoyed her Rum-and-Cokes. Super-good memories. Thanks, Bill. As always.