Show a little faith, there's magic in the night

Because my apartment lies between the elevator and the stairwell, I don't overhear much noise through the walls. In the kitchen and the bathroom, though, through some odd quirk of engineering, I not only hear my neighbors through the vents, but occasionally I hear them very clearly. I don't mind, because I've always enjoyed eavesdropping, and sometimes I even hear music that sounds vaguely familiar -- like something I would listen to.

This evening at sunset, I was reading the New York Times when I heard the unmistakable chords of one of my favorite songs in the world. "That's Bruce!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet and hurrying into the kitchen. Sure enough, my mysterious neighbors were listening to "Thunder Road." I couldn't help singing along in the hopes that they would hear me: "Come take my hand, we're riding out tonight to chase the promised land..."