3 min read

Let's Take a Ride

There I was, seventeen and scorching down highway 199 in my smog gray 1981 Chevy station wagon I had named “The Ark,” convinced Noah had built it.
Let's Take a Ride

There I was, seventeen and scorching down highway 199 in my smog gray 1981 Chevy station wagon I had named “The Ark,” convinced Noah had built it. Rumor has it, it could even float on water under certain conditions. With my battery-powered cassette player blaring, I was on my way to partake in the weekly parting of my allowance in exchange for what some considered dumpster refuse—but I considered gold.

Thrift Town was my go-to for vinyl records way before it was cool. It was also way after it was cool, being the late eighties. I’m usually dead on with my timing like that. Nothing was better than flipping through this week’s records to see what I could find.

I made my way through rack after rack of various shirts, skirts, jeans, and shorts to the record bin hidden away in the back of the store. It was back by the second-hand shoes and every type of electronic device you can think of—from blenders and curling irons to stereos.

As my fingers began flipping through the records like little gymnasts, I hit pay dirt. I didn’t know what it was, but it had to be good with a cover like that. You may not be able to judge a book by its cover, but for vinyl, it will do.

The record was “Attic Thoughts” by Bo Hansson, released in 1975. The artwork was by Jan Ternald. The cover art depicted a half-human/half-insect man (Hansson) playing a giant organ with several arms engaged amongst its three keyboards and a nice beverage balanced on one knee. In front of him are several tv screens with various depictions on each. The artwork swirls to the back when fully opened, and several keys fly off the organ into an expanded piece of work. I don’t know what is in this guy’s attic, but I want to learn more. I dig it.

No time to check the tee-shirt rack today; I’ve got vinyl to spin. I tossed the $1.98 on the cash register counter as I strolled out of the store, waving “adios” in my rearview. I pressed play on my portable cassette player and pointed The Ark toward home.

The anticipation was thicker than a thick thing that’s really thick. Was this record going to be trash, or was it gold? I dropped the needle on side one, and my ears couldn’t believe what my mind was hearing. This stuff was good. It was gold. I loved every note. I had never heard anything like it. Turns out, early Swedish instrumental prog and art rock was about to become my new friend. Before the first song was over, I was already ready to listen to it again.

To be clear, at no point in the writing of this post, nor any time prior, was I under the influence of electric lettuce or any other interesting substances. That’s not my thing. Even so, this tale is astonishingly accurate. I did buy this cool record at Thrift Town when I was a teenager, and I thought it was pretty cool. Still do.


I could not decide which song to feature from the album. Attached is a playlist for the entire record. You can also find it on Apple Music and Spotify.