The first time I wrote about this song it was a smash hit from a still unknown band. A true reflection of the artistic power of a three minute piece of music that flies round the world at the speed of love.
I was in a different place. Another universe. Wondering what it meant. Wanting it to mean what I romanticized about the lyrics. The story. The lovers. The cars.
A 757 would roar away from JFK and I would plug the song into my brain and dream the dreams I wanted to dream. I would count possibilities. I would see no limitations. I would wonder if I could float up to the spirit of the song and join it in mid flight.
Then years went by and I lost touch with Snow Patrol and their haunting car dreams. Were they a one hit wonder? Was I the only hostage to their music? Had time stood still? Was Einstein right? Had I traveled past my own place and time?
And then a few weeks ago on a trip to Anguilla, I noticed Snow Patrol’s Greatest Hits album on Amazon and listened to Cars for the first time in nearly a decade. But there was more. So much more. The unknown band had created a true body of work that will live on — for decades, perhaps more. And there is a true power at work here.
When we create art in our lives — in our work — we do something magnificent. In a daily grind of checklists of activities, those who take time to turn cars into clouds, into angels, gain a certain kind of blissful and gorgeous immortality.