Feelin’ Fine
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It was an early morning at the Home Depot, and the drywall anchors were proving themselves elusive. I spent too much time in the hardware aisle before finally finding the right ones, and at the exact moment I reached for the box, the first few notes of “Everyday Is a Winding Road” by Sheryl Crow came on over the speakers. The music was loud and the store was otherwise quiet; to say I felt it would be an understatement.
It’s not actually my favorite song of hers—I can't hear a bongo without experiencing a fleeting moment of personal embarrassment (something I will neither explore nor work on!)—but that aside, it’s classic Sheryl Crow, and an excellent, jangly, jean-shorts-Pepsi Cola-car commercial-California summer-90s pop-rock hit.
I left the Home Depot. The sun was shining, and the weather was warm. I got in my car and I rolled down the windows and I followed the song wherever it wanted to take me. Jump in, let's go:
In my mind, Faith Hill’s “This Kiss” smells like Clinique Happy, and I cannot hear the Beastie Boys’ “Sure Shot” without the visceral memory of jumping on a trampoline in my best friend’s backyard at age 13, because songs are time machines and our brains are easily imprinted upon by both magic and the mundane. Likewise, most early Sheryl Crow is a throwback to being huddled under a blanket with three high school friends, passing a joint around and trying to stay dry as it rained for the entirety of the DC-area Lilith Fair tour stop.
Sheryl Crow and The Chicks played Lilith Fair in 1999, so besides “Everyday Is a Winding Road,” I also got to see “Goodbye Earl” live and in person—and I consider “Goodbye Earl” to be one of the greatest songs of my lifetime. Mary Ann and Wanda are icons of both feminism and friendship; if you don’t support women’s rights and wrongs—i.e. poisoning those black-eyed peas; if you can’t get behind female entrepreneurship—i.e. selling Tennessee ham and strawberry jam at a roadside stand out on Highway 109; if you don’t believe that Earl had to die—then you and I are profoundly different people.
“Everyday Is a Winding Road” has a needle drop at the end of Erin Brockovich (2000), which—coincidentally—is a film almost entirely about one woman’s wrongs. Julia Roberts’ Erin spends 131 minutes verbally assaulting her coworkers, wearing visible bras in courtroom settings, and actively taking for granted her biker-boyfriend with a heart of gold.
All of her wrongs, of course, are unequivocally right: those coworkers underestimated her at every turn; short leather skirt sets are effective in extracting vital information from hapless municipal clerks; and actually, you know what? George deserved better than he got, but this was never about him. Sheryl Crow and her bongos come in just as Erin gets a look at her hard-earned yet totally unexpected two million dollar bonus check, and there is simply nothing to feel but elation as the credits start to roll.
Back to the hardware aisle. When “Everyday Is a Winding Road” went straight into “Bad to the Bone” by George Thorogood and the Destroyers, I realized I might be bearing witness to the Platonic ideal, the ur-myth, the absolute apex of a Home Depot soundtrack run: a fantasy of open roads and revved engines and feelin' fine, all of which are perfectly and obviously adjacent to grill and power tool and well-kept lawn. Throw in a keen sense of suburban-dad-starting-the-wind-up-mower-on-the-first-try satisfaction and we’re in b-b-b-b-business, baby—and we’ve maybe even found some small amount of restitution for biker-boyfriend George. It was all just so contextually perfect that I was very nearly stunned, and when Steely Dan came on next I almost had to be medevaced out of there.
Countless listens and, yes, 3,600+ YouTube comments later, I finally did the math on “Everyday Is a Winding Road.” I was 15 when it came out, which means I’ve known this song longer than I've known most people. My ability to find unabashed joy (and zero shame) in the mainstream, radio-friendly, female singer/songwriter staples of my teenage years has never wavered (side note: if you're in line for the Macy Gray “I Try”-aissance, STAY IN LINE). I'll continue to ride for them—if not in short-essay format, then at least with the windows down, the volume up, and my index finger ready to smash that skip button should the algorithm even attempt to throw in a Pearl Jam deep cut.
This post emailed out 5.9.2025 with newsletter-exclusive extras. Subscribe here.