Wow, this isn't as old as I thought it was. Certainly this was heard in the backseat of the car, flying down a country road--but no, that was this one, similarly a delicious R&B groove. No, this was heard when I was in fifth grade, and things were getting harder. I flunked a science test during the third or fourth week of school because, up to that point, I hadn't needed to study, do homework, think about school once I was home with Nancy Drew and Barbie and Mork and Mindy and the Bosom Buddies. What the hell? I dimly remember a big red number below 70 scrawled at the top of the test by Mr. Enoch, who we inexplicably gave a ridiculous and very late 20th century small-minded nickname involving moles (predating Austin Powers by two decades). The feel-good fourth grade was over. Nothing but homework and headaches while I strained to see the blackboard all year and then, finally, in May of fifth grade, glasses.
Maybe this gave me short-term nostalgia for a few years earlier, when life was easier.
