Franz Ferdinand
Take Me Out
Domino Records

Back in the 70's, when my uncle the newspaperman was changing newspapers, me, my brother and my dad brought the pickup down and helped him move from the Chicago Tribune to the Dubuque Telegraph Herald.

I think I was about 12. Patrick would've been 9.

The trip was clear across state; from the cold, Chicago bustle through the fractured farmlands of Northern Illinois on to the sleepy banks of the Mighty Miss and Dubuque, Iowa. We were kids and totally into it.

There was something alluring about the big city for a kid from one of its resort towns. So This is where they all live during the school year. This is where the train roams around the city on stilts and shakes the buildings. This is the city where the mailmen die and they discover years of undelivered mail under his house.

Ooooh...look at that skyscraper!

We got into the city early enough to pack up the truck, make the trip, and unload in one saturday. I remember munching on a bag of pretzel sticks while we worked loading the Jimmy and listening to WLS.

We probably groaned with arewethereyet?s, but I really don't remember the actual trip very much. I just recall that when we finally got there, standing amazed behind the truck and calling out loudly for everybody to come and quick.

The pretzels were still sitting on the back bumper. 179 miles of highway and bathroom stops after someone shut the tailgate on the last load and set them there.

I'd like to blame the laws of physics on the fact that the Franz Ferdinand record hasn't left the player for days, but it's a force much stronger than that:

Free Will.

Copyright © 2004 Alice Kenner