c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(10-25)
A shy and awkward kid, in Pennsylvania at the riverbank
As the 70s decade dutifully put us in a Disco trance
A leisure suit in polyester, with wide lapels
Glam and glitter, with Pet Rocks to sell
All these trappings of social excess
Like a spray-paint veneer of artificial happiness
Failed to form a foundation for one kid
I was that oddball, too inept to flip my lid
But American Graffiti had set the tone
On my turntable, long hours spent alone
I wore those vinyl grooves deep into my skin
Zipped up a motorcycle jacket to my chin
I had only one prize to show for a crown
A Fonzie T-shirt from the Kmart in town
It paired with a model kit, also from that store
A Triumph Trophy scrambler, a bonus reward
Black boots with silver buckles ‘cross the arch
Teachers thought I must have had a Rock & Roll heart
I drew pictures in my notebooks, all day
Of hopped-up hot rods, and bobbed cycles on the highway
It surely must have come as no surprise
Happy Days pegged the meter, when I had to stay inside
I’d catch every episode, and commit it to memory
A better world, I thought, than my adventure in modernity
Jukebox jams and a doo wop brigade
I convinced friends to join this parade
A group, ‘The Four Quarters’ sang at football games
We did ‘Duke of Earl’ and ‘Silhouettes’ on the radio, WKPA
I pursed my lips and threw back my head
Boomed the basslines, like a vocal slab of Wonder bread
My partners harmonized and added to this roleplay
Girls in our class were puzzled, but listened anyway
For one year, we were a sensation on the home turf
An added attraction to the pigskin perks
Instead of longing for a coin-flip to the good
I channeled Wolfman Jack, out at Kennywood
That howl of cigarettes and fame was reborn
If only in the glimmer of a teenage swarm
After graduation, the Fonz garb faded
Adulthood arrived, and childish joys abated
My shirt ended up in a chest-of-drawers
No one at home knew what I had saved it for
I rediscovered it, years later when my father passed away
While sorting sadly, through the family estate
That grin of confidence bolstered my mood
A vibe unvanquished by the age of our brood
I could no longer do the sock-hop dance steps
But those sweet melodies retained their effect
We were twenty years behind that Bell Curve
Willfully wandering away from the herd
A slicked-back pompadour, made from the shag
Of a naïve nebbish with duct tape on his book bag
Even in a new century of light
I’ll hang on to that groove of 50s delight
Amid the era of Clapton, Frampton, and such
People thought I was sadly out of touch
But the style of a Bel Air, rolling on steel wheels
Never loses its timeless appeal
Rubber streaks, all the way down my boulevard
The fashion framed in a reflection of art
Girls in Poodle Skirts, dudes in leather duds
And one lonely student, with a grade average above
I was never cool enough to join the schoolhouse jet set
But that period, I will never forget
Study hall detention, and heartache hurts
But I knew what my presence at the desk was worth
With that printed, S.S. Kresge cloth, over my head
I went from sore loser, to a victor instead
Fonzarelli was my adopted form
For one brief instant, I was a hero, reborn
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