On the Run in the Getaway Car

Streetlights in the fogMy car plunges into the early-morning darkness, sweeping along the curve of the freeway onramp. My brother, Scott, rides shotgun. My sister, Kathryn, sits quietly in the backseat as the bubbling synthesizer of Pink Floyd’s “On the Run” from ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ begins.
 
I feel the music, feel the pull of the centrifugal force from the arc we are making towards the freeway below.
 
‘On the Run’ is less music, more sonic sculpture. There is a flight announcement…echoing footsteps. The pulsing synthesizer intensifies.
 
Ahead is a streetlight. The moisture in the air carves a bright sphere from the darkness.
 
The music crescendos as we pass into-then-through the sphere of light. It fades as we return to the darkness.
 
I smile for some reason. Something is happening. But I don’t know it yet.
 
Now two synths build together, divide and sweep around the inside of the car as a man mumbles something about living for today. The pulse peaks and squeals as the car punches into another bright bubble from the next street light. My stomach tightens, smile broadens as we are swallowed by the darkness again.
 
The synth quietly gurgles in the background.
 
Another cycle rises to crescendo without the histrionics, but still matched in synch with the passing of the streetlights.
 
It recalls the urban myth of synchronizing ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ with ‘The Wizard of Oz’.
 
The piece begins to build again. A buzzing becomes a plane descending rapidly.
 
No more streetlights. Ahead is an overpass under construction. Work lights and scaffolding covered in sheets of clear plastic.
I think it’s over, but I am wrong.
 
The plane crashes as we pass the scaffolding. The work lights strobe crazily amid mad laughter as we streak past the scaffolding. I feel it inside. I grip the steering wheel.
 
We roll out from the overpass into the morning darkness as the piece fades completely.
 
Kathryn, from the darkness of the back seat: “Did you feel that?”
 
I’m stunned. Before I can answer, Scott looks at me, nodding.
 
“Oh, yeah”.