Tuning In the Rhythm

I trotted inside after dark and spotted a squat, silver transistor radio sitting quietly on the side table. Without thinking twice, I scrambled right up the telephone cord to the tabletop! That round tuning knob looked just like a wagon wheel waiting to spin. I threw both hands against the ribbed plastic dial and shoved with all my might. Scritch-scratch went the static, and then—whoosh!—a lively fiddle reel burst right out of the little speaker perforations! I couldn't help tapping my heels in rhythm right there on the polished wood. It's like having a full barn dance playing just for me!