Warm and Fuzzy

There aren't too many things that give me warm fuzzies.

You know, warm fuzzies. When a smell, a sound, an image, a feeling, a taste, or a memory gives your body that short, but satisfying shutter. Sometimes your closed eyes kind of role up into your head, there is usually a deep breath that accompanies it, and there is always a smile included. Yea, I guess it is somewhat orgasmic.

For me, it normally happens when something triggers a memory. A good memory. I don't get warm fuzzies when I remember shitty times. When I recall the tsunami disaster, I don't get all happy and reminiscent. I get warm fuzzies when I hear the first three notes of "Highway To Hell", like I did just a second ago. Not because it's good song (which it most certainly is), but because it takes me back to driving to the lake cabin in Vinnie's 64, The Tank O' Love.

The reason that's a special memory is, well...it was the place we could go and do whatever the fuck we wanted to do. It was like having your own place, but you were 17. We drank whatever we could get...we drank it all and we drank it fast. We smoked marijuana on the porch (for medical reasons only) and listened to AC/DC, debating over who was better, Bon or Brian.

And The Tank was our means of transportation when visiting the cabin. She was an original, red, 4-door 1964 Chevy Impala. She was beautiful. And she and the cabin both represented freedom to us.

Looking back on that time, I guess "Highway to Hell" was our unofficial anthem. It too, screamed freedom.

The cool thing about the warm fuzzy is, that when you get one, for a split second it takes you back to that exact moment. It's hard to absorb it because it happens so fast. But for one nanosecond, you are experiencing the same passion, elation, love, or excitement that particular memory triggered.



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