rating: +22+x

I'm in a crowd, in front of a stage. Not sure where, but it doesn't matter, just that it's dark. Up on the stage I can tell there's a band. Just noodling a bit, sounds like, till the drummer counts off, and that familiar bass line kicks in.

The lights slowly go up over the band, punctuated by a spotlight on the harmonica player at his entrance. The crowd is grooving, but I'm transfixed by the harmonica player. An odd sense of familiarity about him. It couldn't be, but…. He reaches the front of the stage, where a microphone stand is waiting for him.

"All… my… friends… know the low rider…."

That voice… it's unmistakable….

"Low… Ri… der… is a little higher!"

And he goes back to the harmonica. Who knew Fernand could play the harp too? Suddenly it's the second verse, and he's looking straight at me. Like he's serenading me, and grinning the whole time.

"Low… Ri… der… drives a little slower…. Low… Ri… der… is a real goer!"

Then, by God, he winks at me.

And usually, by this point, I wake up in a cold sweat, and swear off deep-fried butter with bacon. Again.

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