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After we had dinner at Shona’s, we went out for ice cream, and segregated into the former-Brookline and not-former-Brookline cars. Out came the iPod, and — probably owing to the 60 lb box from Los Alamos International Laboratory in my back seat — on came what is generally regarded as one of the Rush songs with the worst lyrics: Manhattan Project.

And don’t believe for even a second that it stopped there; we were all pretty serious Rush fans in high shool, and we hit the nostalgic highlights and lowlights of this nearly-complete audio collection. As Joey learned the hard way — and this is a source of almost unedurable embarrassment for me — let me make something clear: do not make any kind of wager which requires you to know more Rush lyrics than I do. I know all of them. I know the precise vocal accents and intonations, as if I had perhaps listened to this music on repeat for three years. I mimic the guiter and drum parts with stunning accuracy and clarity during the instrumental sections. Don’t even load it up.