"He's a friendly stranger in a black sedan. Won't you hop inside his car?
He's got pictures, he's got candy, he's a lovable man. He'll take you to the nearest star. He's your vehicle, baby. He'll take you anywhere you want to go. He's your vehicle, woman. By now I'm sure you know … who I'm talking about. If you grew up in Chicago, in the late '60s to early '70s, with a radio pressed to your ear, then certainly you know. That's when Jim Peterik and the Ides of March, the pride of Berwyn, roamed the earth. Until they split up in 1973; then most of the band, having socked away some cash, went to college and started families, became upholsterers and property managers.
They were in their 20s.
But a funny thing happened: Jim Peterik didn't grow up. He traded in his black sedan for a Lamborghini. And radio ubiquity? For him, it never dried up, and he never went away, or left Chicago. Indeed, if I had a nickel for every time I heard him recently sing "Vehicle," the Ides' biggest hit, which reached No. 2 on the Billboard Top 40 charts, and was impossible to avoid in the summer of 1970 and now sounds like the marching band anthem it is — if I had a nickel for every time I heard him simply reference those lyrics ("Well, I'm a friendly stranger/In a black sedan/Oh, won't you hop inside my car?") — I would be wealthy. That said, it would take many lifetimes, and as many Top 40 hits as he's written, before my nickel jar was as heavy as his."
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