When my old man found the time off work to pick me up from elementary school it meant two things: 1. ColdStone Creamery.
2. Great music. I didn’t get bit by a bug. I got swept up in a fucking wave. Rock n’ Roll.
It started with the Clash. Should I Stay or Should I Go? And it kept going. Bon Jovi was living on a prayer and Billy Idol taught me how to dance by myself. So on and so forth. I stuffed my face with ‘Apple Pie A La Coldstone’ while shredding air guitars and drum solos with my Dad.