I distinctly remember the first time I heard this song. I was with my wife, the kids were newborns, and we were driving over hwy 92 en route to Half Moon Bay. I’d downloaded a live recording of Glen Phillips, one of the original members of “Toad The Wet Sprocket” and somebody we’d seen live a year or two beforehand. His show was great, but I was unfamiliar with some of the tracks on this live recording, including this one.
Although they’re simple words, there is something about the mental image of the Vega, the father setting out with a vendetta against a neighbor’s dog, the kid silently praying that he fails in his mission… it’s just something that hits a resounding note of hot summer nostalgia. Not that I’d ever been in the exact scenario, but I’d imagine we all have one or two childhood memories of a cigarette smoking father wearing a short sleeve white T-shirt and smelling a bit of stale beer. Right? Anybody? Or am I completely alone here?