Preparing to Be Deprived

Once upon a time, I disliked satellite radio--intensely. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that my first real exposure to it was The Roadhouse. For those of you who don't know, The Roadhouse is a unique form of aural torture where victims are trapped in an enclosed space (for example, their husband's pickup) and forced to listen to the oldest and most annoying Country and Western songs ever stamped onto vinyl.

Mr. Robin started paying for satellite radio when one of his new pickups came with a free three-month subscription. I was surprised because he'd previously refused to have anything to do with it. "Why pay for radio when you can get it free over the airwaves?" But that free three months was just enough to get him hooked -- besides The Roadhouse, he enjoyed the other C&W stations and the comedy channel -- and he paid for the full subscription for several years.

But one day a few months ago, he noticed he was being charged city sales tax. It annoys the hell out of Mr Robin to pay a single cent more than he has to for taxes (because we pay income tax out the ass -- seriously), so he called and told them we live outside the city limits and they needed to take the city sales tax off our bill. Of course, their computers aren't up to that complicated a task -- since we have a city listed in our address, it automatically charges that city's sales tax. I understand this. Every computer program has its limitations.

But Mr Robin does not understand, and he got so frustrated after hanging on the phone with several different people for hours trying to get it changed that he told them to cancel his subscription.

Over pennies of sales tax.

Yeah, I know -- I'm still rolling my eyes, too, but for him, it was the principle of the thing.

Anyway, the satellite radio company screwed up the refund they owed him, and screwed it up several times because apparently when he traded in his old pickup, they just swtiched the account over to the new owner's name and then sent the check to them. He got so angry and fed up, I finally had to take over dealing with them, and the last time I had to talk to them, I really gave them an earful.

Then I traded in our old Suburban for a newer one...and it came with three free months of satellite radio. The timing was perfect -- we would have satellite radio just long enough for the kids to listen to it on our long trip to Utah this summer.

But a funny thing happened. I started listening to the 80's channel. And the 90's channel. And the 70's channel. And then I found The Coffeehouse, a singer/songwriter and acoustic rock station. Wow, what a perfect station! I absolutely love it because it really focuses on my favorite musical instrument, the human voice. Nothing captures and holds my attention better than a beautiful voice.

Today on my way to pick up Mr Robin, I heard two great examples--Jason Mraz's live acoustic version of You and I Both, and Sixpence None the Richer doing an acoustic version of Don't Dream It's Over. Both songs perfectly showcased the performers' amazing vocal abilities, and let me hear and understand the lyrics in ways I never had before. I was breathless and lost in my head the entire time I listened -- I don't even remember the drive.


Which is kind of hazardous, now that I think about it, so I guess it's just as well that my three free months is about to expire. But isn't that just the way it goes? I finally discover a radio station I don't want to live without right before it goes away from my radio. *sigh* It's back to the CD player for me while I'm in the car, and unlike my old Suburban, this new one doesn't have a six-disc changer. (Wah, wah, poor me. *grin*)

On the bright side, we get The Coffeehouse on our home satellite system, so I won't be completely deprived, and I can buy songs I like from iTunes, just like I did the Jason Mraz and Sixpence None the Richer songs. Now if I can just get Mr. Robin to leave so I can turn it on...