I remember Mike’s eldest daughter Alex Conley, explaining at his funeral, how her dad always had to play his music loud, be it in the house or in the car. She did not seem to get it, since they had headphones.
Today youngest son is acting like a know-it-all teenager. He knows all about art and rock & roll. A stick up his ass. Like an old fart art curator or rusty rock band member. Me I am just Mama Kin… I don’t know a thing.
I stopped to drop him off at his college art class. Before he got out, he turned down the music, changed the channel to Jazz, and closed the door. I then changed the channel back to rock & roll, turned up the music loud while spinning tires, and raced away. Mike Conley came to mind. I was then sitting with his ghost as this song came on. It is cool man. Time for a cocktail. I enjoyed a ride with Mike Conley today.
Youngest son is my friend regardless… we both like rock & roll, art, and fast cars. He is a son, and I am a mom. Mike was a good punk friend on the wild side of my exuberant youthful life. He is welcome to visit any time.