As we drive, we boogie. And not just to any, ol’ tune. In keeping with the educational theme of this road trip, we listen to songs based on our location. I’m not kidding when I say I was in a full on panic as we approached the Georgia line and I didn’t have Ray Charles cued up. I made it but just barely and Danny threatened to demote me. How could I be trusted with DJ duties if I couldn’t get this obvious classic playing at the right time?

We listened to “Mississippi Squirrel Revival” when we drove through Pascagoula. Danny insisted on Lynyrd Skynyrd while in Alabama (the state welcome signs even say “Sweet Home Alabama”) and I made sure we listened to the group Alabama hits like “High Cotton” and “Roll On.” When we listened to “Forty Hour Week,” out of loyalty to my people, I switched 40 to 60 while we sang “Hello, Kansas wheat field farmer, let me thank you for your time….” Obviously, we listened to jazz the entire time we were in Nawlins. We sang “Tennessee River and the Mountain Man” as we looked for our RV Park in Chattanooga. We reminisced with Alan Jackson when we saw the Chattahoochee.

Most recently we listened to The Beach Boys as we goofed off in the Keys. Now, we are aware that they were from California but “Kokomo” is obviously a Florida-worthy song so we cranked it up. That led to a conversation on going to Kokomo which led to me reaching for my phone which led to my entire belief system crashing to the ground.

There is no Kokomo.

I mean, there is. There’s one somewhere in Indiana and there’s a Kokomo in Asia. However, the Beach Boys falsely sing about a Kokomo just south of the Florida Keys. It’s not there. They made it up, Americans. They made it UP. Does this mean that there aren’t two girls for every guy? What about Northern girls? With the way they kiss, do they really keep their boyfriends warm at night?

Education hurts sometimes, friends. We are cautiously planning our musical sections with a bit more cynicism. Consider doing likewise.