I once again find myself in a reflective mood. Been doing that a lot lately. People keep telling me the industry is changing, and the disruptors keep taking shots at the dealers and traditional processes.
At heart, I am a car guy. But if the truth be known, I still reminisce about the magical days when I was a celebrity rock jock in the ’60s and ’70s. I wouldn’t have missed those times for anything in the world. In those days, being a disc jockey at a major rock station was the coolest job in the world.
I think this mood crept over me last week when Gregg Allman died. What affected me most was that he was my age, and I knew him and his brother Duane before they were famous. I met the Allmans in 1969. I was a DJ and they were playing at Jacksonville nightclubs, calling themselves “The Second Coming.” As a rock jock, I had the opportunity to meet a lot of the legendary groups of the day. My biggest regret is that I never got to meet the Beatles or even see them perform. I was fortunate enough to have had several lengthy conversations with Elvis.
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