Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Born to be M-i-i-i-i-ld

Me&Ev, as in, ever notice daughter is 1 letter away from laughter? 
If you asked me yesterday at breakfast if I've ever had a musical gig that paid me money, I would have: a) thanked you for even thinking the question; b) laughed; and c) said "nope".
But. Had you asked me at lunchtime, you'd have gotten a "yup."
Here's why.
First you have to know I enjoy travelling on my motorcycle and although you can't tell by looking, I frequently sing while I ride.
My motorbiking daughter Ev does too-- a fact I added as an excuse to use this  picture.
I have a limited repertoire of motorcycling songs but I admit that one is the '60s hit, "Born to Be Wild," written and recorded by a Canadian band called "Steppenwolf" in 1968.
The thing about "Born To Be Wild," is that it became the unofficial theme song for the movie "Easy Rider," starring Peter Fonda who--I'm just stating a fact here--I've been told I kinda look like.
And Peter Fonda rode a Harley-Davidson. Which is the brand of bike I currently own.
about it, Nicholson kinda
 looks like my brother Ed
The model of Harley I have is called Sportster and until recently the Sportster was the littlest Harley-Davidson going.
When Sportsters first appeared in the late '50s, they were considered very cool but that's changed. One clever writer described the transformation thusly: When they were introduced, people knew a Sportster was the kind of bike The Fonz would ride. Now it'd be Potsie.
Still, it's big and fast enough for me.
Besides, I seriously don't care what kind of bike I'm riding. I've never been on a motorcycle I didn't like. And I digress.
Tuesday morning, I was roaring along Toronto's Lakeshore Blvd, belting out "Born to Be Wild."
"Like a True Nature child,," I sang, "we were born born to be wild fly so high never wanna die-ie-ie. Born to be Wi-i-i-i-ild" and like that.
That's when I recalled my money-making singing gigs.
When I was a little kid, before Easy Rider made the song famous, I used to go over to  my lifelong friend Trevor MacIntyre's house. There was a guitar there. Neither of us knew any chords though I just this minute remembered Trevor took drum lessons.
I banged on the guitar; Trevor and I would sing the phrase "Born to Be Wild"over and over and over again as loudly as our little pre-pubescent voices would let us, and his father would pay us to stop.

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