I guess you can boil this song down to three central ideas. 1) Be careful on your motorcycle. I'd had 4 acquaintances in bike wrecks over the last year. The road to recovery is long. 2) You may have to go somewhere else to find your success, and it may take awhile. 3) You may grow old, and the reminders could be anywhere. . .

Sunshine, playoff hockey, friends. . . Really, what more do ya need?

So this girl takes a chance on me, you know, and sorta nonchalantly nurses me back to emotional good health, and then I find some of the clarity I knew was out there somewhere, and then Shazam! we're married. . . Life is the best game in town. . .

If you're gonna try that "love" stuff, it's not a bad idea to have flame-retardant. . .everything. . .

No, not a stalker. But what do you do with that dream that sneaks up on you in your sleep once a year?

Everybody out there has tales of the old days, stories of the things you maybe shouldn't have done but got away with and lived to tell about anyway. Featuring Kathy Zeigler on vocals and Mark Crabtree on guitar.

Beach balcony (again), and I got to thinking about the various sensations we attach to romantic feelings; what we hear, what we see, what we say or think or dream. And I wonder, if those feelings are left unvalidated, do the sensations become the landscape of a fantasy? Rex's Take: When I was training dogs for the federal narcotics division, our commander took her shoes off one day, and she said to me "If fantasy has a landscape, then you better mow the grass there, Slick." She had such well-defined toes. . .

Growing up Huffman. . .

I had spent some time examining my life and the lives of the people around me. I was changing, my audience was changing, and the failures and frustrations of early adulthood were giving way to the relative ease of middle age, middle income, middle class. This transition comes with it's own set of complexities. As the son of a coal miner, my life has been deeply rooted in the working class ethos, complete with a wariness of the upper social strata. But the dominant values of the working class are hard work, pride, and perseverence. These traits have intrinsic value, but they can also reap rewards, and I was beginning to sense that I and my generation were accomplishing what we were told we could. I came to the realization that people can improve themselves and maintain their authenticity. If you want to make life a competition, then your rival should be your former self.

Everyone has their own Magic Street. And everyone remembers when they were there.