Friday, January 24, 2003

By Rick Ryckeley
Fayette County Fire & Emergency Services

The Wife and I went out to a local eatery last week and sat behind a group of teenagers. While waiting for our order to come up, I couldn't help but overhear the engaging conversation at the next table.

They weren't discussing a worldly topic such as the forthcoming war in Iraq, the possibility of an oil embargo, or the three year decline in the stock market. No, they were talking about much more important things than any of that mundane stuff. The topic of discussion was about something that would really affect their lives ­ getting their driver's licenses and the killer sound systems they would purchase for their cars.

At that moment, a revelation hit me: I'm really out of touch with what's important in the life of today's teenagers. Now, this will come as no surprise to The Boy who, by the way, turns 16 next week but to me it came as somewhat of a shock. It's like one day I went to bed as this hip know-it-all teenager, and the next I woke up as a not-so-cool-don't-know-nothing-out-of-date 44-year-old dad with no hair and a pudge. Bummer. (Have I mentioned before that I really miss my hair?)

The Boy has his birthday next week and like many soon-to-be 16-year-olds he will be going to get his driver's license. Like most of his teenage counterparts, he too is excited about the killer sound system he will purchase for his car. After talking er, listening to him go on for hours and hours describing the difference between woofers and tweeters, amps and pre-amps, 15-inch speakers, cabinets, equalizers and cross over systems I now know what my son will be when he grows up. The Boy, my pride and joy, will be an economist! I know this because somehow he has figured out how to spend money that he doesn't have, earned from a non existent job, on things he can't possible afford. How he will accomplish this feat I don't know, but I'm sure that the not-so-cool-don't-know-nothing-out-of-date 44-year-old Dad with no hair and a pudge will figure into it somehow.

I sat The Boy down and had a heart-to-heart talk with him about things that were really important and things that maybe he could do without. I told him that unlike all of his friends, he shouldn't spend his money on a killer sound system for a car he doesn't even have yet. Instead, the smarter and more responsible thing for him to do would be to save all his money from his non-existent job and spend it on a really killer sound system for his room! A room he has. The answer I got back was, "Huh? What? Were you talking to me? I didn't hear you."

Back in the day, I saved money up to purchase a sound system for the room I shared with Twin Brother Mark. Unlike The Boy, I didn't get the money from my non-existent job, though; I was more creative than that. I just bugged my parents for it 'til they gave in.

For his share, Twin Brother Mark didn't bug Mom and Dad for the money. No, Twin Brother Mark was even smarter than that ­ 30 years ago he cashed in his $500 of Coca Cola stock. On our 16th birthday we went out to purchase the system. Not just any sound system mind you, it was the newest thing on the market. We purchased a state-of-the-art quadraphonic system ­ the full effects of which could only be felt if you played records that were recorded quadraphonicly, sat in a chair precisely in the middle of the room, which was surrounded by four 15-inch speakers.

Note to the young readers out there ­ Records: round disks a little larger than a Frisbee with recorded music on them. Ask your parents later, maybe they'll show you one. A Frisbee: Round disk your parents threw around in the backyard when they were kids. Unlike records, Frisbees had no music on them.

The Boy didn't want to hear about the system Twin Brother Mark and I purchased so long ago. All he wanted to do was talk about the dream system he was gonna get for his car. That's when I showed him the amp I had bought years ago for my first truck.

"This amp pushed two 12-inch speakers." I said proudly. "I thought you might like this for your car."

The Boy looked at the car amp with disdain and said, "Dad, that amp only pushes 45 watts. It's so small it can't possibly push my 15-inch woofers. It's like maybe only big enough to push my tweeters."

With my masculinity crushed, I left his room and told The Wife what he had said. As always, she comforted me and made me feel better. The Wife patted me on my head and said, "Honey, don't worry about having such a small amp ­ your small amp can push my tweeters anytime."

[Rick Ryckeley is employed by the Fayette County Department of Fire and Emergency Services. He can be reached at firemanr@bellsouth.net.]

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