I drove through a can of paint.

Well, not exactly.  Someone else hit the can, I just drove through the detritus and told myself I was paranoid, that it was already dry, it wouldn’t stick to my car.

But I was wrong.

As soon as I got to a residential neighborhood, I pulled over, and found the side of my car covered.

I was savvy enough to pull into the 76 station, where I rubbed the exterior clean.  The wheel wells?  Well, no one sees them, right?

It was that kind of week.  Endless bullshit.

And driving up Chautauqua last night, going the speed limit, because that’s where I got my last ticket, for going 38 in a 30 zone (although there were construction cones, although it was 1 A.M., never break the law in the middle of the night), irritated with the guy behind me in the Mercedes who kept flashing his xenons in my rearview mirror, I heard a song on the radio.

Pushing XM buttons incessantly, I had no idea what station I was listening to, but I certainly knew the record, SURF CITY!

Jan & Dean were my first love.  Maybe it was that summer at the beach, when far before puberty I caught the girls and boys at the pavilion grooving to "Little Old Lady From Pasadena" as it emanated from the transistor hanging over the order window. I’m not sure, but I bought Jan Berry and Dean Torrence’s albums before the Beach Boys’.  Jan ultimately got into an accident, and I had to switch my allegiance, but there was a moment there where I played "Command Performance" so much that the cover fell apart and the record turned grey.

"Command Performance" was my first live album.  And it had all the energy the rerecorded de rigueur double live albums of the seventies did not.  There was a killer version of "Dead Man’s Curve", with an improvised middle section, you know, the spoken story where the crash takes place.  And I loved "Sidewalk Surfin’", using the same tune as the Beach Boys’ "Catch A Wave", but substituting the pavement sport for the water activity.  But the tour de force was "Surf City".

I bought a ’34 wagon and we call it a woodie
(Surf City, here we come)
You know it’s not very cherry, it’s an oldie but a goodie
(Surf City, here we come)
Well, it ain’t got a back seat or a rear window
But it still gets me where I wanna go

Where do you want to go?  Do you want to blow all day in front of a computer screen at a hedge fund so you can party a few weeks a  year in an exotic location or do you want to put your passion first?  Not only for work, but play.  And if you do it right, work is play!

You know they never roll the streets up ’cause there’s always somethin’ goin’
(Surf City, here we come)
You know they’re either out surfin’ or they got a party growin’
(Surf City, here we come)
Yeah, and there’s two swingin’ honeys for every guy
And all you gotta do is just wink your eye

Shine up your personality and see where it takes you.  Operate on a wing and a prayer.  Doesn’t matter how old your ride is, whether you’re wearing designer duds, just who you are.

On a mono player forty five years ago, I could barely make out the words of "Surf City", not that that hindered my enjoyment, I just made up my own!  But driving into Pacific Palisades last night, the lyrics were crystal clear.

And we’re goin’ to Surf City, ’cause it’s two to one
You know we’re goin’ to Surf City, gonna have some fun
You know we’re goin’ to Surf City, ’cause it’s two to one
You know we’re goin’ to Surf City, gonna have some fun, now
Two girls for every boy

And as I pull up to the meter on Swarthmore, put the car in neutral and pull up the emergency brake, I can’t turn the car off, I have to hear "Surf City", even though I can sing every lick myself.

And then I suddenly realized.  I’D MADE IT!  I WAS IN SURF CITY!

I wasn’t in my bedroom in Connecticut, I barely ever go to the beach, but I live in California, my childhood dream.  How bad can life be?