I missed my exit on the turnpike last week because Burt Bacharach went to Marion’s bar in Nepal. 

I’m not saying my missed exit was Burt Bacharach’s fault. It was definitely a group effort. Burt Bacharach. Me. The Carpenters. 

And this is where I part with a deep secret. Something few people know about me.  

I love The Carpenters. 

Yes. The easy-listening, brother-sister singing duo from the 1970s. The darlings of AM radio. They are, unequivocally, my favorite music of all the music in the world.  

How did The Carpenters become the apple of, well, my Apple Music playlist? 

All I can say is this: When I was young, I’d listen to the radio, waiting for my favorite songs. When they played, I’d sing along. It made me smile. 

That’s from a Carpenters song.  

The Carpenters are one of those things where, even if you know them, you pretend you don’t know them. So I know you’re sitting there saying, yeah, I didn’t know that was from a Carpenters song.  

The Carpenters are a measurement of dorkiness the way a Richter scale is a measurement of earthquakes. 

When Burt Bacharach died, I thought of “Close to You,” the Carpenters song written by Burt Bacharach.  

I also thought of Rupert Everett getting the entire wedding party to sing “I Say a Little Prayer,” in My Best Friend’s Wedding.  

Once I started thinking about Burt Bacharach, The Carpenters, and My Best Friend’s Wedding, I also started thinking about Elvis Costello. And Tom Jones. And Naked Eyes! 

Burt Bacharach, like The Force, truly surrounds us and binds us together. 

I had a road trip ahead of me. My husband was at the Great American Outdoor Show in Harrisburg. Over the non-pandemic years, the Great American Outdoor Show has become a romantic getaway for us. I was scheduled to meet him there. 

We spend a lot of romantic getaways at outdoors-related events. 

That’s a story for next week. 

With a two-hour-ish road trip ahead of me, I had time to spend with Burt Bacharach. And my Carpenters playlist. And the soundtrack from My Best Friend’s Wedding. 

Which, as it turns out, is heavy on Burt Bacharach. Could that road trip be any better? 

Did I sing along with every word of Burt, The Carpenters, and My Best Friend’s Wedding? Well, let me put it this way: I listened to the radio. I sang along. It was songs of love I sang to. I had memorized each word. 

Yes. That’s The Carpenters again. 

Richard Carpenter wrote that piece. He’s a true musical genius. And don’t get me started on Karen Carpenter’s voice. I just spent half an hour following Karen Carpenter article after Karen Carpenter article online. I am, at the moment, in a weird hole with many tabs open on my browser. 

And I am 100 percent sure that station wagon I passed on the turnpike paced me for a few miles because I was singing like a fool.  

Or they were planning to kidnap me.  

I was so focused on Burt Bacharach and foiling my would-be kidnapper, I sailed past my exit. And was that really such a bad thing? For starters, did I want the possible kidnapper following me to a hotel room I was entering alone? 

And let’s be honest. I could drive all the way to, well, San Jose, on the joy of Burt Bacharach and The Carpenters. 

But so much of Burt Bacharach is the conduction of love affairs. And so much of The Carpenters is lost love. Could I — should I — miss a romantic weekend at the Great American Outdoor Show because of Burt and The Carpenters? 

I mean, my husband had been gone for a week. A week! I missed the sweet and tender love we used to share. All I had to do was go back to a place we used to go and he’d be there. 

According to Burt Bacharach and Naked Eyes, anyway. 

My phone rerouted me. I ditched my kidnapper. I neared the hotel. I continued to sing but kept a watchful eye on the cars around me. 

Not because of kidnappers. Bizarrely, I know a lot of people at the Great American Outdoor Show. I didn’t want to explain to anyone who might see me why I was singing alone in my car. 

That explanation is just for you guys. 

Divergence from my intended path added no time to my travel. Before long, I was in the hotel parking lot and reluctantly turning off the music. The music I could listen to all day. The music I adore. 

Or, as Burt and Dionne might say, for me, there is no one but The Carpenters.  

And I say a little prayer. 

Ooh, forever, forever they’ll stay in my heart and I will love them forever and ever we never will part. Oh, how I’ll love them …

Yeah. I’m totally singing again.  

And that kidnapper is probably so glad I got away.