In my life, the road is always full of music. From the radio to CDs to singing softly to myself, while I am in my car, driving to my next destination, music always fills the air. I've always felt that the best place to listen is in the car as well. My mind is diverted enough with the drive to keep me from getting bored or distracted. I don't feel the need to turn on a movie, or play a game, or whatever. Yet the monotony of the road is such that I can pay full attention to the sounds and words of the music coming from the speakers.

And so it was on the day I first heard “Elvis Presley Blues.” It must have been Thanksgiving, for we were taking separate cars and that means I had to go back to work while my wife could stay a few days. It was one of those fall days where the air was cold and crisp but not bitter. The sun was moving quickly towards setting and the skies were clear. It was a perfect day as the Indiana farm land swept by me, and Gillian's plaintive, sad song about Elvis swept me away.

Later, when we arrived at my in-laws my wife and I both talked listening to WFHB and then we smiled knowingly and glowed over how brilliant that songs about Elvis was. She said we'd have to buy that album. I had to agree.