Samhain Publishing

With a title like that you’d think there’d be some lying, cheating, and broken hearts ahead in this story. Not today. I’ll save those stories for when I know you a bit better.

There will be drinking. And a bit of lyrical nudity. Just so you’re warned.

Now, so you know where I’m coming from, I’ve spent the entire mumble number mumble decades of my life in the south. Some of it in Kentucky (Louisville, which really is much closer to a Midwest city than a southern one no matter where you draw that Mason Dixon line); then a big chunk in Alabama; and now fifteen-ish years in Florida. I was old enough when I moved to Alabama to turn up a snobbish nose at that music, and glad enough to leave the deep-south behind when I left it that country music was the last thing I ever thought I’d find myself listening to.

Enter “The Long Drive.”

On a good day it’s a two hour drive from Orlando to my house. On any given Sunday when the masses of tourists are fleeing Orlando for the trip back home, it’s closer to three hours on the road than two.

Those can be some long, sleepy hours. A few months ago, I’d spent two days out working in the hot sun, and wanted nothing more than to get home, grab the kids from the in-laws, and relax with a cold beverage on my own couch while the dog gave me some canine kisses to tell me how happy he was that I was home. Unfortunately, staying awake for the drive was even harder this trip than usual. Nickelback, Coldplay, and Tool weren’t doing it for me.

In drowsy desperation I began to seek and scan my way through the FM dial. I was about to give in and actually pull over to change cd’s (ugh to cd changers in the back of the car) when I stumbled upon salvation, waiting for me at 92.5 on my dial.

Salvation started off like this :

She said, “I’m goin out with my girlfriends..Margaritas at the Holiday Inn.”

He (I didn’t know who “he” was at that point) had me already. Singing about Margaritas? I’m there!

Lord have mercy, my only thought, was tequila makes her clothes fall off.

I laughed. Out loud. And I turned up the volume, because even though I could tell this song was going to be as country as they come, he hooked me in with that first line.

I told her put an extra layer on, I know what happens when she drinks Patron. Her closets missing half the things she bought, yeah tequila makes her clothes fall off.

Oh, I was a goner at this point.
I didn’t recognize “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nichols* for the life saving experience it was at first. In fact, I was over an hour down the road, and singing at the top of my lungs along with Lee Brice (“She Ain’t RIght”), The Wreckers (“Tennessee”), and Clay Walker (“Fall”) before I even realized what had happened.

I was still awake, not dosing in the I-4 rest stop (there’s the life saving part of this story). I was halfway home. And I was singing country music. Willingly. You could even say enthusiastically. Part of the beauty of country music is that you don’t even have to hear the whole song to know what the lyrics are going to be. When you hear the line “She says she wants to meet my momma”, you just know that the next line is going to be “I said, I don’t think you oughta.”

I wasn’t even tired any more. When 92.5 started fading out on me, I began pushing the seek button on my radio anxiously again. Not anxious because I was tired anymore, but because I just had to have more of this music that was keeping me alert at the wheel.

Country music saw me to the safety of my driveway, and a bit regretfully I turned off the radio. This was nothing more than a one night musical stand, I assured myself. I’m not a country music fan. It won’t happen again.

The next morning I was looking for something to listen to while I read through my email, and I couldn’t get That Song out of my head.

Them panty-hose ain’t gonna last to long, if the DJ puts BonJovi on. She might come home in a table cloth, yeah tequila makes her clothes fall off.

Guiltily I plugged my headphones into my pc speakers so no one would realize what I was doing. And as quick as you can google “Orlando Country 92.5” I was clicking on Listen Live.

I hid my country secret for a while. No one but my sister (bless her Alabama, country music lovin’ self) knew the dark stain I carried in my rock and roll soul. And then something wonderful happened.

Bon Jovi released a country album.

Now, if one of the Hair Bands of the 80’s can go country, all of a sudden it didn’t seem so bad that I was listening to country as well. I stopped working quite so hard to hide it, even going so far as to play it in the house when my husband was home. That didn’t go so well; since he wasn’t a big fan of Bon Jovi before they went country, it didn’t earn any cool points with him that they had made the jump to Nashville. But he didn’t divorce me over it, even if he has made me promise not to make him listen to it when he’s home.

I still don’t consider myself a country “fan”. But what I am, I admit, is a lover of a good story. And most of these songs? They’ve got a hook to them that can suck you in before you can stop to realize what just happened.

These days when I’m on a road trip, I don’t skip over the country stations without stopping for a listen. I’ve even got a country station or two on my radio presets. And if you want to know why, all you have to do is follow along to the lyrics of a song like this one by Carter Deana – “Did I Shave My Legs For This Lyrics”.
What woman can’t relate to a song like that?

*If you were lucky enough to be at the Nickelback concert in Nashville this past Thursday, you got to hear them cover “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off”. I’m not the only one who couldn’t get the song out of my mind!