When I hear classic rock I am with you. You are young and fun. "This is the best music of all time" you say. There are no anxious thoughts and depressing moods. We are laughing at your crazy dance moves. Especially the "Criss-Cross," giving the illusion that your hands just magically go from one knee to the other as you move your legs together and back out with the beat. I am six years old and you are laughing at my attempt to mimic your movement.
When I hear classic rock I am 9 years old and you are driving us home. You aren't complaining about traffic and instead doing the "neck throb." This move I am successfully doing in high school, sitting in the stands of a football game with the marching band. By moving my head from front to back to our drums, using the muscles in the neck. My friends laugh at my little, odd movement.
When I hear classic rock sometimes.... I miss you.
