Friday, June 11, 2010

He said: "I was part of a Rock 'n' Roll band in the 1980s. We started in the basement and ended up some time later on the road. Most of our days were filled up with driving from one gig to the next gig, up and down the East and West coasts. Connecting the dots was one of the many thankless jobs that someone needed to perform in order for the "magic" to happen. It was brutal! The driving, even after we were able to work our way up to a second van, was brutal. Just awful. Boring. Tedious. Painful. Anyway, one of the obstacles we'd look out for was heavy weather. A good size storm could make us late for the next gig and that affected our budget. It was simple, really: No Play, No Pay. One of the other things that could slow us down would be problems with the vans. I, by accident, caused us to loose a good paying gig by accidentally (I swear!) set one of the vans on fire. I was bored. We all smoked back then. I absent mindedly shoved a cigarette butt down a hole I had found in the back seat, between the fake wood panelling and the side of the van. In almost no time at all, the van filled up with smoke, I guess, from the insulation that was not supposed to burn, but did. We had to pull over because of the smoke. The second van soon caught up with us, but by that time the first van was a smoke or fog machine and we tried to empty it before the equipment was toast. That was a heavy thing to carry around within the band. From that night on, I was "the guy who set the van on fire."
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