BRAD SCOTT: STILL LOVING THE MUSIC AND THE MOMENTS

by Alan Linq

Brad Scott doesn’t overthink joy.

He doesn’t dress it up, intellectualize it, or turn it into a five-step plan for a better retirement. He just…goes. Gets on the bus. Books the cruise. Buys the concert ticket. Follows the music.

That instinct—simple and direct, has shaped a life built around movement, memory, and saying yes while you still can.

Brad grew up in a version of Florida that feels almost mythical now, and fondly recalls his younger years. “I had the best time of my life,” he says. “If I could choose one time to go back to, that would be it. You get up in the morning, get on your bike with your buddies, and just ride until dinnertime.”

It was a childhood of motion—bikes, beaches, road trips—long before travel became something you planned months in advance. Weekends meant heading to the beach in Daytona or New Smyrna. Summers meant piling into the car and driving north to Maryland, where the trip itself was part of the experience. Even then, the pattern was there: go, see, do, repeat.

As it does for many, music eventually wove itself into that pattern and never left.

“I’m a full-time rocker,” Brad says. His tastes lean classic—Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Billy Joel, Lynyrd Skynyrd—but he’s not precious about it. It’s not about curating the perfect playlist. It’s about the feeling, the memory, the way a song can take you somewhere you didn’t expect to go. And for Brad, the live music experience is always best at that.

“The best concert ever,” he says, “was The Eagles at the Sphere in Las Vegas. That wasn’t a concert…that was an experience.” He and his wife went for two nights, sitting just rows from the stage—close enough to feel like a part of it, not just watch it. The technology was impressive, but what stayed with him was the immersion—the way the music didn’t just play, it surrounded you. “If you have a chance to go…just go.”

That same “just go” philosophy also shows up in how he travels. A recent trip took him to Branson, a destination he originally approached with some skepticism. What he found there wasn’t what he expected—it was much better. “It was beautiful up there. We were on top of a mountain with a big old lake behind us. Just gorgeous. Such a great time.” That willingness to be surprised, to go anyway and see what happens, opened the door to more.

A 14-day Eastern Caribbean cruise brought new islands into view, places he’d never visited despite years of traveling. Then came Hawaii, with three days in Waikiki followed by a cruise through the islands, and even a helicopter ride that offered a perspective he’d never had before. “That was awesome,” he says. He doesn’t dress it up much beyond that—and he doesn’t need to.

And he’s still going. Next up is a Rocky Mountaineer trip: flying into Denver, taking a glass-domed train through the mountains, ending in Las Vegas. He’s already got his eye on another show at the Sphere—his favorite movie, The Wizard of Oz. It’s not cheap. He knows that. He’s going anyway.

Because for Brad, this chapter of life isn’t about waiting.

“Well, I lost my wife a couple years ago,” he says. For a long time before that, he and his wife had been caring for his mother, which made extended travel difficult. Life had its priorities, and they honored them. Now, things are different. “So I just said, I’m gonna start traveling again, you know?”

There’s no drama in how he says it. No attempt to turn it into something bigger than it is. Just a quiet pivot. A decision.

Go now. See what you can. Don’t put it off.

That mindset, as simple as it sounds, is what carries him from one experience to the next. A concert one month. A cruise the next. A train through the mountains after that. It’s all part of the same instinct he had as a kid on a bike in Orlando—keep moving, keep going, keep saying yes.

And maybe that’s enough. Not everything needs to be explained. Some things you just follow—the road, the music, the moment in front of you.

And when you get the chance, you go.