My Hyundai Ate the Ditty Bops

Two or three months ago, I heard a song called “Ooh La La” on the radio one night and it was such a strange song to hear on the radio, all old-timey and foot-stompin’ and twangy (and with a cricket interlude), but with such light, sweet, clear harmonies that I had to know who it was. A short Google search on the lyrics delivered the Ditty Bops. I bought their eccentric little CD shortly thereafter and it’s been in my car since.

On the way to work earlier this week I put the CD in the stereo as I pulled out of the driveway. The music should have started right away, but it didn’t. I was at the stop sign at the end of the street before I realized something was wrong. I pushed a few buttons. Nothing happened. I looked around. The CD wasn’t lying in the tray or on the floor or on the seat. It wasn’t anywhere.

My bewilderment grew as I traveled down Freer Road. I tried to eject the CD, but nothing came out. So tried it again. And again. It was obviously not there. By now I had picked up a tailgater, a big brown Buick, but they were going to have to wait. The fabric of the universe had torn open in my Hyundai and the Ditty Bops had been sucked down a wormhole into another dimension.

I put another CD in the stereo. The Pet Shop Boys started up immediately. Now I was really, truly baffled. I looked in all the jewel cases, just in case there was ergot on my Chex and I hallucinated putting the CD in the stereo. The Ditty Bops sleeve was empty.

Sure, Einstein came up with that whole E=mc² thing, but the CD didn’t blow Washtenaw County off the planet when it inexplicably converted itself to energy, so it had to be somewhere. I ejected Neil Tennant mid breathy vocal and started prying at the stereo, digging my nails into the little gaps between the unit and the dashboard. A plume of dust blew out behind me as both passenger-side tires dropped off Jackson Road into the gravel. The Buick backed off about a hundred yards.

There wasn’t much else I could do, so I journeyed on to work, occasionally pursing my lips and scowling at the radio. The stereo did not come with the car. My parents had it installed for me as a gift, since the original car radio had a cassette deck, but no CD player. There’s a small gap above the stereo, maybe the thickness of a disc. I can hardly believe that a CD would fit in there without my deliberately pushing, hard, on it, but still, it’s the only logical place where the Ditty Bops could be.

Interestingly enough, other people do not have logical reactions to this. One friend gasped, “I hope everything’s all right with your car. That happened to my husband and the next thing he knew, the alternator was shot.” Someone else suggested in all seriousness that I pop open the hood to see if I can grab the CD from the other side.

Huh?

As I see it, I have two options: 1. Buy a new Ditty Bops CD or 2. Have the stereo removed to pry the CD from the Hyundai’s ravenous jaws. I’m thinking 1. sounds like the path of least resistance.