December 29th, 2024
Have you ever noticed that no one of the male gender can talk about monster trucks in a normal tone of voice? Guys automatically speak in a deep baritone and start yelling about “MONSTER TRUCKS!”. It’s weird. It reminds me a lot like pro wrestling. Monster trucks bring out an inner macho and a sudden burst of testosterone.
Asher is a monster truck fanatic. Of course, he’s four years old, so that sort of thing is age appropriate. He is in love with huge trucks with loud, powerful engines, especially when these vehicles are doing stunts that are objectively crazy. Asher will watch endless numbers of YouTube videos of monster truck shows. He has acquired probably two dozen toy monster trucks. They are all different models, and he knows all of their names. He is appalled and amazed that I don’t know them too. When I display my ignorance, he expresses disbelief,
“How can you not know that this is El Toro Loco?”
I obviously disappoint him. Not so his uncle. Asher’s uncle is planning to take Asher and another boy to a monster truck show in downtown Milwaukee. Asher is counting the days until the event. Asher’s uncle loves him.
A couple days ago, Asher was playing with his Christmas loot, most of which had to do with monster trucks. His uncle bought him a launch pad for his toy trucks. With enough oomph Asher can toss one of those vehicles halfway across the living room. I am waiting for him to hit a window.
While Asher was racing and launching his trucks, I was trying to play some music. I have a phonograph turntable. It’s old. I bought it in Germany forty years ago, but it still works. I have been reluctant to play any records while Asher is around. The turntable just begs to have a little boy fool around with it. I explained to Asher that I was going to spin some records, but he needed to keep away from the phonograph. His eyes widened and promised to keep his distance.
Yeah, whatever.
I dug out a dusty copy of “Tommy” from The Who. I found the track with “Pinball Wizard”, set the disc in motion, and turned up the volume. Asher was suitably impressed. He asked,
“How does it work?”
“The needle on the arm picks up the vibrations from the grooves in the record.”
I might as well have said, “It’s all magic.”
I walked away to grab a soda. When my back was turned, I heard the sound of the music slowing perceptibly. Without turning around, I yelled,
“Asher, leave it alone!”
He replied, “I’m not doing anything.”
I walked over to the turntable and readjusted the speed of rotation.
“Leave it alone. If you break something, I don’t know if I can get it fixed.”
He looked at me and said, “I didn’t do anything, and I won’t do it again.”
Good enough.
While the boy sped “Boneshaker” across the kitchen floor, I found an album from Pat Benatar and played “Heartbreaker” at a high volume. Asher found his boogie and danced to the song. He told me,
“That’s a monster truck song!”
It figures.
Then I located the double album from Derek and the Dominos. I found the track for “Layla”. I cranked that up. Asher perked up when he heard Eric Clapton and Duane Allman tear through dueling guitar solos. Asher said to me,
“This is a monster truck song too!”
Cool. I won’t be going to the show with Asher, but it’s comforting to know he will be listening to the classics.
Frank is Emptiness 