I must have been about 13 or so when Dad was diving along I-74 between Champaign and Mahomet when I Want To Know What Love Is was playing on the radio. I remember there was a high-pitched him coming from the stereo and I associated it with Dolby – which was a new technology all those years ago. I associated it with the hum with the tiny red dot of light to the right of the hole for cassette tapes.
The headlights groped along the highway like a submarine along the ocean floor. The prairie scrub gave me the impression of algae straining towards bleak sunlight. When I looked up, the thick clouds were almost glowing from moonlight but all I saw was the moment where the ocean meets the sky – I was a bottom-dweller cocooned by quiet light and sound.
All the while the song chimed with my sad and lonely soul: I want to know what love is. I want you to show me. I want to feel what love is. Because I’ve never felt it.
