Margo asks for snippets. So, here goes:
The traffic wasn't too foul. There were a few hold-ups in Northcote when I got stuck behind a slow-moving tram but other than that it moved pretty well. Bell Street was its usual self so I was grateful to swing down onto the Tulla, put on a bit of speed and head north towards Bendigo.I dug around in the open compartment under the radio and found a cassette to play. There was a faint hiss as the tape hit the heads which was followed by a lone piano and mouth organ. After that Springsteen started to sing about screen doors and cars and roads. And Mary. It always seemed to be Mary with him. Or Wendy. The tape sound was getting a bit ratty and I decided I had to trade up to a CD player some time soon. But I had other, more pressing financial matters to deal with first.
I'd sort of introduced the Boss to Susan way back when, back when we were a couple. She'd heard of him, everyone had, but had always thought of him as being a bloke's singer. He always sings about cars and death, she'd said at first. Maybe my playing him every day changed her mind. Maybe she was just trying to be nice. In any event she started to listen to the albums, and we went to see him when he toured in 1985. That was about the last time I saw her for over six months. She told me that night she had to go away for a while. She wouldn't say why. She didn't say how long. Next time I saw her she was with Corby, giving him the goo-goo eye, and avoiding mine completely. They were married a year later.
Of course, no correspondence will be entered into
