Bob Seeger roadtrip.

Snow was forcast, but what do weathermen know? We were supposted to get a big one for the last couple of days and instead it was rainy and in the high 50's.

Four of us, Amy; looking quite Veronica Mars-ish, Clint, Shanda, and I headed out. The Allstate arena is just outside of Chicago. Medium size venue with no bad seats. No let me rephrase that. Medium sized venue with small seats. Very small. We stood at the end our row which was much better anyway.

Our seat were upper deck left facing the stage. Drinks were available just off the aisle. I don't think smoking was allowed but Bob's fans seem to do what they want. Ha. The average age was about 40 to 60 though there were a lot of younger fans. As a review in the Trib mentioned, there were more people holding up lighters than cellphones. Flashback.

Bob looked a bit grayer and has picked up a few pounds (ok, who hasn't in the last 10 years) but his voice was all there. I think he sounded great. Amy said he dances like I do. I take that as a left handed compliment. I'm glad she was there though. She knew the words to the songs better than I did. Brought her up right.

He played all the songs I wanted to hear. The Sax player excelled. You can never have enough sax in rock ballads. I'm terrible for remembering all the names of them or in what order they came so although I coundn't find a playlist, I copied a review I found in the Chicago Tribune.

To me, he brought back many memories and nothing could beat hearing Turn the Page live.

By the way it was snowing when we left. After driving north about 60's the snow quit. Thought we had dodged a bullet (Silver Bullet of course). The ground was clear and dry when I went to bed at 2:00AM. I woke up to a foot of snow on the ground. Snow day. On a Friday. (That's a picture of our cars Friday morning in the collage.)

Perfect ending after being:

on the road again...

strung out from the road...

Turn the Page:

On a long and lonesome highway, east of omaha.

You can listen to the engine moaning out its one lone song

You can think about woman, or the girl you knew the night before,

But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do.

When your riding sixteen hours and theres nothing much to do

And you dont feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through.

Say, here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.

Here I go, playing star again.

There I go, turn the page.

Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road,

You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the cold

You pretend it doesnt bother you, but you just want to explode.

Most times you cant hear em talk, other times you can.

Oh the same old cliche, as that woman on her a man

You always see my number, you dont dare make a stand.

Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.

Here I go, playing star again.

There I go, turn the page.

Out there in the spotlight your a million miles away,

Every ounce of energy, you try and give away,

As the sweat pours out your body like the music that you play.

Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed,

With the echo from the amplifiers ringing in your head,

You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she said.

Now here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.

Here I go, playing star again.

There I go, turn the page.

Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.

Ah here I go, playing star again.

There I go, there I go.

The following is from the Chicago Tribune so I don't get in trouble:

Seger still sings the blues, has right moves

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By Greg Kot

December 1, 2006, 1:40 PM CST

This was arena rock the old-school way. You could tell, because the lighters far outnumbered the cell phones when it came time to decorate the joint in honor of another classic song that evoked the feeling of being young, restless and bored in 1962.

Bob Seger was the perfect host for such a gathering. At the sold-out Allstate Arena Thursday, the Detroit hard rock 'n' soul warrior wore the years with affable pride. He has gone gray, he wears glasses and a few extra pounds, and his black T-shirt, blue jeans and headband might as well have been a business suit.

"Sweet 16's turned 61!" the 61-year-old Seger roared with a smile during "Rock and Roll Never Forgets." After a decade away from the road to help rear his children, the singer has returned with a solid album, "Face the Promise," and the grit still clinging to his voice. But he never really went away. His hits collections remain perennial best sellers, and his songs have become part of the fabric of at least two generations. From "Ramblin' Gamblin' Man" to "Roll Me Away," with stops in between for "Night Moves," "Hollywood Nights," "Old Time Rock and Roll" and "Katmandu," Seger roared the blue-collar blues.

The set list occasionally lagged when he leaned too heavily on songs from "Face the Promise" and resurrected "Satisfied," a love song tacked on to "Greatest Hits 2." But otherwise, it was a two-hour-plus concert devoted to durable songs about misfits and vagabonds, the type of characters who value freedom over success. The first set closed with three of the best road songs ever written: "Travelin' Man," "Beautiful Loser" and especially "Turn the Page," with Seger at the piano and Alto Reed blowing bittersweet empathy on the sax.

Early on, he revisited his cover of Chicagoan Otis Clay's old soul hit, "Tryin' to Live My Life Without You." With a five-piece horn section and three backing singers joining a rocking rhythm section, Seger affirmed that he has always been steeped in R&B and Motown as much as Chuck Berry and the Rolling Stones.

"Just pull those old records off the shelf, I'll sit here and listen to them by myself," Seger sang. Those old records, with their emphasis on groove and unvarnished directness, are the foundation of his 40-year career. Along the way, he became a great songwriter by writing about characters essentially like himself: The son of a factory worker who lived in near poverty after his father left home, then found a way out.

The line between the characters in the songs and the performer on the stage melted away. Seger's made his millions, but he still looked and sounded like he'd be right at home at the end of the bar with a beer in hand, a few stories to tell and a motorcycle waiting for him outside.

gregkot@aol.com

Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune