An ode to the CD.

By: Hannah Herner, In The Record Store staff writer.

Everything changed when I got a new car. A 2016 model, with heated seats, Bluetooth capabilities, automatic lights and, to my dismay, no CD player.

Local record stores are selling them off, the superstores hardly carry them. Now, I can’t listen to them in my car. I worry that the beloved compact disc is becoming obsolete.

My first CD was Hillary Duff’s “Most Wanted” album. I listened to it countless times on my silver American Girl CD player that had plug-in karaoke microphones. I asked for CD's for Christmas and birthdays, and listened to them on my bejeweled Walkman on my first flight to California.

When I graduated high school, I graduated to a more compact Hello Kitty CD player that I brought to college. My roommate and I bonded over the Dirty Dancing soundtrack I had gotten in a $1 bin at my local electronics resale store.

Throughout high school and into college, I kept a silo of blank CD's ripe for making mix tapes for friends and for myself. My most prized possession is the rap mix that my best friend Tanner made me, only next to the pirated copy of One Direction’s first album she decorated with multi-colored Sharpie pens.

The CD's I made for my first solo drive to college, for my drives around Lake Erie, for my friends on Valentine's Day, for my editors as going away gifts, all symbolize a certain time in my life that I can physically document.

 Images: Wikipedia.

Images: Wikipedia.

Even with the introduction of the iPhone and iPod into my life, the CD's still lived in my car, flooding my between-the-seats console. When I would cruise around town listening to my albums, I knew I would listen to it front to back, without any interruptions of text messages or emails coming through, without fumbling with my phone. It is truly the best way to listen to an album, the best way to escape.

But now the console is empty.

I know that the CD will rise again, though, because my hipster children will one day decide it’s the trendy thing to do to listen to CD's rather than streaming services.

This isn't a goodbye. This is "see you later."