Last night I heard Operator by Jim Croce over at the Little Red Hen in Green Lake, Seattle, and was reminded for the millionth time what a huge musical loss it was when his plane went down in 1973 (I remember it all too well, he and Roberto Clemente were the two first big losses of my childhood; how the radio kept playing Croce's I Got A Name afterward and how incredibly sad it made me, and how I would think, "He can't be dead, that's him right there." (I was ten.)). Then, today, on the Outlaw Country station I heard this song, and I honestly can't say that I remember hearing it before. A possible function of the aging process, perhaps, or maybe I really just missed it. Anyway, in case you missed it, or your aging process precludes you from remembering -
Speedball Tucker by Jim Croce...
"Non-stop back to Dallas, popping them west coast turnarounds..."