The neighbors probably wondered why Danny was freezing his ass off, sitting in a strange car in the middle of the night, playing with the dashboard, but Danny was unconcerned.
An important task on Danny’s to-do list before the trip was to master the technique of finding new stations on the radio in Madoka’s car, and that was first on his list of things to do tonight.
There was no point in pre-programming any particular stations, because he would probably only be in range of any specific station for a few hours at most. Since Danny’s usual habit while driving long distances was to dart from channel to channel to avoid commercials, songs he didn’t like, or annoying announcers, Danny believed that dexterity with the radio was a basic driving skill, essential to both enjoyment and safety.
Although Danny knew that each individual radio usually had a fairly simple and straight-forward way of seeking to the next station with a strong signal, Danny had learned from experience that these simple mechanisms were often remarkably different from one radio to the next. After years of frequent travel and thousands of miles driven in rental cars of every description, Danny knew this very well. He had once spent an entire weekend confusing the tuning knob of the radio with the volume knob, and the volume knob with the thermostat. An especially memorable weekend, it had turned out, because Danny’s travel companion, a senior sales representative, had strongly disapproved of Danny’s preferences for both music and temperature, and described his displeasure using particularly graphic and earthy analogies which might, in a different era, been answerable only by a duel.
Danny half-regretted not purchasing a satellite radio for a moment, but it was a brief moment. He felt that it didn’t make sense to drive across the country and listen to the same location-agnostic music for the entire trip–he wanted to hear local voices, local music, and local advertisements. Ten years earlier, Danny might not have believed that radio programs could vary so much from city to city, but his work, which had required regular travel to several cities, had taught him otherwise. In Boston, the oldies stations played Aerosmith; in San Francisco, Journey. In Saint Louis, he couldn’t find a station that wasn’t almost entirely rap or hip-hop, and in Austin he couldn’t find much rap at all. Lou Reed was only played in New York, and grunge had retreated to Seattle. In Los Angeles, Danny preferred to listen to the Spanish-language programs; even though he didn’t know what the announcers were saying, he enjoyed their style and enthusiasm.
Danny didn’t know much about the spaces between the cities he visited, but he hoped there would be interesting things on the airwaves there. He expected the voices on the radio to be his most constant companions on his long drive, and he looked forward to hearing new ones. He hoped that he’d hear something other than homogenized Clear Channel stations on his trip.
Danny reflected on the thoughts he had had about various “on-air” personalities over the years. What were those people really like, when they went home after the show? Was their on-air persona based on their real personality, or was it a completely scripted fabrication? If he met any of these people off-air, would their personalities be what he imagined? Would he even recognize their voices?
Danny had given this topic some thought in the past. He knew that most of his knowledge, such as it was, about the world financial markets could be traced back to his brief fascination–or perhaps infatuation–with Deborah Marchini, which co-chaired the morning financial report, with Stuart Varney, on CNN.
Danny had been a regular viewer because he found Deborah irresistible. There was something about her voice, which seemed simultaneously playful and serious, with a slightly drawl, that he found mesmerizing. Her hair and face were perfect, of course, as only the hair and face of a woman with a staff of makeup artists lurking off-camera between commercials can be, but Danny didn’t really know how she looked. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her in profile, or from any other angle than straight on. Her torso might have ended immediately below the table top, for all he knew, but he also knew that it didn’t matter. Her intonation made everything sound interesting and fun.
Danny suspected that female viewers would feel the same way about Stuart Varney. Perhaps there was a little something going on between them? They had a certain repartee. They seemed to be having a good time.
Danny also reflected on the voice of Laura Carlo on WCRB (Boston’s classical musical station, now also serving Cape Cod and the Islands on …), who he had, for years, listened to almost every morning, and Dick Pleasants on WUMB (folk music radio) on the ride home, because their voices possessed such amazing character.
Danny suspected that Laura Carlo could seduce him in thirty seconds over the phone. Her voice had the acoustic equivalent of a pheromone or some such similar basic biological phenomenon. There was never anything overtly sexy or flirty in her voice as she introduced each piece of music, or commented on the weather, but Danny knew that this could all change in a moment, and he could imagine the result. If she ever ended her introduction of a piece with something like “This is really long one, and it gets so lonely here in the station… the first man here can talk to me alone for thirty minutes” there would be a thousand men reaching for their car keys before the needle dropped on the record.
In constrast, there as something so calming, peaceful, and utterly serene about the voice of Dick Pleasants that Danny often wondered whether it was legal to listen to him without a prescription.
Danny once made the mistake of going to their stations web sites and found their press kit photos. He’d always imagined Laura to something like Deborah Marchini, but with darker hair. He had imagined Dick Pleasants looking something like Stuart Varney, but with a pony tail, a cigarette, and three-days growth of beard.
He was wrong on both counts. They looked like ordinary, professional people. There was nothing in their photographs that suggested the mesmerizing power of their voices–but then again, why would there be? They were already perfect, in their environment.
Danny knew that the faces he had imagined for Laura and Dick were symptoms of deep-seated prejudices, but he also that it was simply human nature to have imagined them to look like people whose appearance was known and pleasant. The face Danny had imagined for Laura, he had realized, had been based on his memory of Vanessa, a girl he had known in high school, and who had possessed a similarly playful voice, and whose physique and features had been fodder for many fantasies entertained privately by Danny and many other members of his cohort. Although Vanessa’s sphere of influence had been extensive, Danny was sure that it was smaller than the broadcast range of WCRB, and thus he felt reasonably sure that there were other listeners who, when hearing Laura’s voice, imagined a different face.
Danny idly wondered what had become of Vanessa. He hadn’t heard from her since Freshman year in college, and that was more than twenty years ago. He wondered if he’d recognize her, if he passed her on the street. He thought that it was unlikely, or that she would recognize–or even remember–him.
Danny fiddled with the radio controls until he felt comfortable using them, and could operate the important controls without looking.
He had an iPod full of music, and an iPod-to-cassette adapter, for times when he couldn’t find anything good, or needed to take control over what he was hearing. There are times when a man simply needs to hear The Faces or some old Billy Joel, after all. He had also prepared a thin pouch of his favorite CDs, as a last-ditch fallback.
Danny then moved on to test the power inverter he had bought earlier that day, to make sure that he could recharge his phone, laptop, GPS, and iPod on the move without popping a fuse. The inverter made him nervous, with its large heat-sink radiator, and he had visions of setting car on fire, but he knew that he might have to use it.
The most important unknown in Danny’s plan was the weather, which would determine his route. Danny hoped to take a fairly direct route, but knew that he might have to detour around any major snow storms. He was tempted to take a conservative southern route, but he knew that this could add days of driving to his trip, and he was unwilling to base his plans on such pessimistic assumptions. Instead, his trip plan was left undetermined–he would watch the weather, and gauge his weariness, and choose where to eat and where to stop each night accordingly. With the maps he’d downloaded into his computer and the GPS attached to the computer, he could find the nearest motel, truck stop, greasy spoon, or gas station from almost any location on the continental United States.
Danny was a careful planner, because he enjoyed careful planning, but he also recognized the limits of planning.
Gathering up all of his gadgets, Danny locked Madoka’s car and returned to the warmth of his house. There were other items on his to-do list, but he was nearly ready.
