Words On The Road

I drove back from Oklahoma this weekend in the ’98 Cadillac STS my wife’s father gave us. It was a long, (mostly) beautiful drive, made better by a steady cycle of Old Crow’s Big Iron World and a handful of This American Life discs. I pulled off I-49 south of Shreveport and ate a damn fine muffaletta at Monjunis Italian Cafe and Grocery, then ducked into the bookstore and bought The Great Gatsby on CD, read by Tim Robbins. I twisted the sound into the rear speakers, so it felt like Andy Dufresne was sitting back there reading Mr. Fitzgerald.

I’d never read it. I’m embarrassed by that. Sort of glad about it, too, because had it been required in high school or college, I don’t think I would have hung on every word like I did on that drive. Makes me want to re-read everything else I read for credit. Midaq Alley. The Grapes of Wrath. The Sun Also Rises.

I replayed the ending about 15 times, taking it back to where Carraway rubs the obscenity off the steps and playing it through those last jaw-dropping lines.

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning —— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

I’ve named the Caddy Gatsby. Hope my wife likes it.

Thanks to Craig for pointing out this unearthed Gatsby Nintendo game. Bad ass.