Joaquin Sabina

I had to buy a new car, because the old one was increasingly a gloomy mare that left its vomit of smoke on the roads.

The world changes so much and so quickly that it is difficult for me to adapt to a car with automatic gears, one button to go forward, another to reverse, without a clutch and with the ability to speak to the driver from a screen that seems like a labyrinth of possibilities.

It's not a question of money, the car is not very expensive.

It is time that passes over us and denies everything, even the truth.

But I need to pass the test.

I have long wanted to move to the neighborhood of joy, it is difficult for me to endure the realities that come from the night and go nowhere.

So I set myself with discipline to learn the dynamics of transformations and watch out for the temptation of my left leg ready without permission to step on the brake.

Wrapped in the novelty, I go to the radio, I give the order to play music.

Jump in the car

by Joaquín Sabina.

Suddenly I understand that no matter how much the machines change, there are things that will never change.

One is the same as always, with his memory full of 19 days and 500 nights, his Melancolía street, his subway stop in Tribunal... songs and memories of a brother, a poet, a friend with whom to share sentimental education, losses and the dreams.

I go down the road and I see with joy that driving, like dancing, is dreaming with your feet and that you don't have to go very, very far either.

Life is a fortune when you are lucky enough to admire what is closest.

We are lucky, Joaquín, to have gotten off at the Atocha station without ever forgetting the South, Úbeda, Granada or the bay of Cádiz.

And it's very funny that you are already an intergenerational reference.

Joaquín has just turned 75 years old.

75!

Well, well, what's up, good and bad rhymes are accepted here.

There are things stronger than technology.

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