Springsteen Vs. Manfred Mann

The sun was so hot I was sweating just standing there. I smoked a cigarette, leaning up against John's car, wondering what the hell was taking so long. Finally I saw him and Howell and Glen coming across the lot and we all climbed in. I only had an hour before my next class and I didn't want to be late. Fourth time this week wouldn't go down well with Mailbox-head, my algebra teacher.
John's Celica made him cool and the fact that he was Jamaican didn't hurt either. John had an undying obsession for Bruce Springsteen, mostly over looked by the rest of us, and he'd tell us stories about the Boss, and we tried to care.
It drove him nuts that 'Blinded by the Light' had been 'butchered' by Manfred Mann's Earth Band and I never did tell him that I thought their version was better than Springsteen's. It would have just started an argument.
There was never any consideration for the two who got stuck in the back seat. The best you could do was just nod and smile. I could see his lips moving in the rear view mirror but the music was too loud to make out what he was saying and you just didn't ask him to turn it down.
The deafening noise was having an effect on Glen, too, who was sitting beside me. He was turning green and John's erratic driving was making it worse. We barely made it to the Pit before Glen opened the door and started puking all over the place. He was always hung over, that guy. He was one of those people who get drunk for the express purpose of blinding himself. We just laughed and took turns trying to kick him in the ass as he bent over the ditch and heaved.

"I might be moving." he said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, my Mom wants to go back to Jamaica."
"That's cool, isn't it?" I said.
"It's a fucking poor country, man. You have no idea. I'd have to sell my car. Get rid of all my shit because I can't take it with me." He was looking across the lot at Glen's back as he heaved another round at the ground.
"Why don't you stay here?" I asked him. I was thinking about moving out and it came to me that John and I could find an apartment. I was always thinking about moving out. I hated this place.
"Naw. I'd have to get a job." He had all this cool shit, a cool car, a cool house with a pool and all the money he wanted but he had no idea how to take care of himself. That was the real reason he couldn't move out.
"Suck it up, man." I'd been working since I was thirteen. I still didn't have any money, though.
"Fuck you. The other thing is that my Dad is there."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing." I asked him.
"I don't know. He's been phoning every week for the last two months. I think he wants to get back together with my Mom. She's so fucking excited about it she doesn't give a shit what we want."
John's older brother still lived at home, too. He was twenty four and still needed his Mom's help just to get by. I don't know where all her money came from but I figured that was probably why his Dad was so anxious to get them back.
Glen doubled over in another fit of wretching and I said to John, "What is that guy's problem? He's always puking on something."
"He doesn't want anyone to know, but his Mom's got cancer. He started crying last night when I was talking to him. He's really fucked up about it." John said, staring off across the lot.
"Shit." was all I could come up with.

It seemed like a minute ago nothing mattered and now all this shit was piling up around me. It felt like I was being asked a question. It felt like the spotlight was on me and I was being timed. Even now, I don't like to be put on the spot.
When Glen had cleaned himself up we climbed back into the car and on the way home we just listened to Springsteen and looked out the window.

I haven't seen either one of them since. I hate looking back at that stuff. I still don't have the answers to those questions. I just left. I keep on leaving and I suppose that says something about me, but I've had my share of shit, too.

The other night Manfred Mann's version of 'Blinded by the Light' came on and I listened to this guy say, "Have you ever heard Springsteen's version of this? It's complete shit." And I told him he was wrong, that he just didn't get it. I didn't, either.
Not then. But I do now.