Bob Seger

Superstitious is generally not a word used to describe my father. Not by me, anyway. But I have observed, from time to time, things that betray some reverence in him toward what I imagine to be vaguely spiritual or supernatural forces. Behavior that may ultimately stem from some quasi-religious doctrine that he, for the most part, keeps to himself.

On those rare occasions when you do catch him in the act, it's hard not to be struck by his resolve. Though he may not be a man who abides by a great many formal beliefs, those he does abide by are abided by devoutly.

Which is why Bob Seger was never permitted airtime on the family car radio. Having once had a dream in which he died in a fiery wreck while listening to Bob, my father felt it unwise to tempt fate. And happening upon Bob on the FM dial, he would maybe giggle a bit, then promptly change the station.

So the other day, waiting for my sausage, egg and cheese breakfast wrap, it was no surprise that hearing Against the Wind pipe through the neighborhood diner triggered memories of my father's secret existential struggle with Bob—or, rather, with mysterious powers intent on using Bob toward some mysterious end.

It's a shame, really. The guy's got some pretty cool songs.