The Untapped Energy of Music and Firey Women

    Hunter S. Thompson said, “On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.”  There’s definitely some validity to that point.  Whenever the needle in the Tercel gets too close to the diabolical E, I turn up the volume and give it hell until I can find somewhere to refuel.  To this day, I’ve never run out of gas.  I’ve gotten close.  I’ve taken it to the point where the engine catches a sort of mechanical Bronchitis.  The tailpipe burns red and wheezes black smoke.  The windows fog and the seatbelts lock with anxiety.  It’s been right down to the wire.  Praying for downhill straightaways and tailwinds.  Collapsing into the gas station like a third place marathon runner with blisters on his feet.

    One thing Hunter didn’t mention was that there are other potential energies like this.  Other powers that be, equally capable of moving a car along with nothing but fumes and intention in the tank.  The most powerful of these, in my opinion, is a fiery woman.  Not just any woman.  If there’s a dull woman in the passenger seat, you might as well pull it to the side of the road, get out, and get your thumbs in the breeze.  A dullard will weigh down the car no different than a bag of sand or a trunk full of cold salami sandwiches.  

    There’s got to be some passion in her for the magic to happen.  It should be apparent when she smiles, but also at rest.   Maybe it grows red and obvious from the top of her head.  Or maybe you feel it like a warm current when she speaks.  Milage isn’t the only thing a woman with that kind of fire can produce.  Those rare women will heat a house with a broken furnace.  They’ll keep a dinner plate warm long after supper time has come and gone.  Most of all, they work like a slow drip coffee IV.

    It’s nice when you arrive at your destination, music blaring, without running out of fuel.  But it’s even better when that fuel gauge starts to levitate.  I’ve seen it happen.  I knew a man who worked three jobs, drove a truck in his oft-time, and got up everyday before the dawn to walk a labrador named Steely Dan.  It wasn’t a trick of amphetamines.  This was a guy with a clean nose.  His poison, his miracle pill came in the shape of a red-haired woman with long arms and little feet.  She had spice, that’s for sure.  That spice was enough to keep both of them up, alert, moving and shaking for five, six, ten days at time.

    She doesn’t have to be riding shotgun, wearing devil horns, zapping you with a cattle prod every time you blink.  That’s not what I mean by firey.  By chance, or luck, or what have you, you’ve got to become entangled in a connection of sorts.  The type of connection that lines two people up precisely, completing an invisible electrical circuit.  Maybe all that fire will bump up the blood pressure a few points now and again, but it’s well worth it.  Instead of eight hours of sleep a night, with a passionate, strong, fiery woman, you might wake up after three and a half ready to take over the whole goddam world.

    Now, some people would say this stuff is all make believe.  They’ll attribute it to adrenaline, dopamine, caffeine - whatever.  But those things don’t work the same.  The mechanisms are different.  They depend on dosage and consumption and disposition.  In my experience, this theory holds true with more efficiency than any drug or coffee pot.  On top of that — better than that even — the woman doesn’t even have to be at your side.  Not at all times.  There’s no ticking time clock before it all runs out of juice.

    It’s just there.  Maybe you have a conversation with her in the morning.  That might be enough to last you until the next week.  If she’s with you, on the road, or wherever, forget about it.  You’ve got lightning in a bottle.  Personally, I’ve been out of steam to the point where I should be crawling around, too exhausted, dragging my body behind me like a wounded soldier.  But for reason’s I can’t precisely explain, I’ve maintained my charge.  Who knows the science behind it.  Maybe it’s a few loose hairs stuck to the back of a t-shirt I’m wearing.  Maybe it’s a memory of something funny she said, or a hint of her deodorant on a shirt sleeve.  

    Whatever it is, it’s with you and there’s nothing you can do to shake it.  You’ll get tired eventually, sure, but not at the same rate.  Not even close.  Even then, you might look over and see a chewed straw, a color in the sky, or daydream her into existence — and that will be enough to put you right back in the game.  Ready to move.  Ready to get shit done.

    There are plenty of other ways to harness these energy capsules.  Music and fiery women just happen to be the most potent that I’ve come across.  Now, if you really want to get crazy, find a fireball of a woman, get her on the road with you, pick a good song and turn the volume to eleven.  You might drive right across the world that way, one shot.