Rochester radio stations

Rochester radio was blaring through the speakers of my 1984 black Thunderbird called Dynamo as I accelerated on the ramp to 390. I was headed for Manhattan: the city where dreams meet life and the night is electric. I stopped the old turn dial on the Rochester ny local news. They spoke of stabbings, layoffs and Easter bunny sightings, so I kept turning toward some of the Rochester NY radio stations.
As good ol Dynamo reached 80 mph, the music mirrored her motion. The commotion of unpredictably erratic brass stabs and slurs provided a jazzy accompaniment to Dynamos growling exhaust. This is what I love about Rochester radio, I thought to myself; Always in sync with me.
Of all the Rochester radio stations, I find myself landing on the jazz and classical programs the most. There is something most definitely communal about the idea of public radio. It is nice to know that so many people care about and appreciate good music enough to volunteer their money to Rochester radio as an act of bettering the city and the lives of its inhabitants. Rochester radio is what home sounds like to me.
I took in as much of the spastic jazz hits as I could handle before turning the dial up ten notches to the classical station. With the wind brushing my cheek and the Spring air zipping by, Mahlers 5th symphony was the only piece which could have truly captured the moment…which it did entirely. Those wavering strings cascading like the passing clouds above me; the flourishes of trombones blossoming like the Spring trees on the side of the road; that glorious timpani bellow, matching the sound of Dynamos wheels gripping the pavement.
As the symphony climbed its way to climax, fuzzy interruptions of static cut the music in and out. I was leaving the range of Rochester radio and, therefore, leaving home. Suddenly it all felt real and it dawned on me just how much I would miss everything. Not just the Rochester radio, but my friends, my family, the lilacs, the bars, the coffee shops, the annoying weather and quirky hobos.
I decided I could not do it. I turned off at the nearest exit, turned right around and enjoyed the quiet cadence to Mahlers symphony as I drove for home.