Well, the show with Lipschitz in Chicago was fantastic. Thanks to all of you who came out. We’ll let you know as soon as the disc is available online. Filthy Rich (of “Talk” fame from Nothin’ But the Bomb Period Vol. !”) surprised us by driving up from Kentucky and we all had a blast. It was great to see Ma, Pa and Sis Lipschitz at the club.
We loaded the gear into the car before going to bed, so that we could get a quick, fresh start on three hours sleep as we headed to NYC for the night.
And we did all that. P. drove first, and we stopped to caffeinate after a couple of hours as we were all exhausted from the late night finish in the windy city. That’s when it happened. Thopie (our trusted vehicle, remember?) shuddered, and then powered down. We coasted to mile marker 139.8 and called that most-relied upon service: AAA.
About an hour later, Robin, from Bill’s Auto Repair showed and loaded the car onto the tow truck. Robin was past fifty, tatooed, with scraggly white facial hair and a pear shaped body. Nice enough guy, really, though not a word was spoken until we piled into the truck on the way to Orland, Indiana (like Orlando, minus the ‘o’). Bill arrived, hoping to fix an alternater and send us on our way (home). But alas, it’s the fuel pump, and Bill’s guy will not be around until Monday, not to mention that he can’t get a part until then anyway. “So, I’ll tow you fellas to First Call Truck Service and they can do it. But they’ll overcharge and use crappy parts. I don’t recommend. I don’t.” But we had to and so we did.
But it’s not the fuel pump, or so says Ken. He thinks it must be the Ignition Module or the Coil. They have to take the parts to the AutoZone and test them and come back to tell us that those parts are just fine, too. “And fellas, we have to go home and take Sunday off and nothing can be done until Monday, when I can take it to a dealership and they can use a computer to diagnose the problem. Sorry. Shane’ll take you to a motel in the meantime.”
Figuring the really cheap place at the gas station across the street wouldn’t be so much fun, we thought we’d head to motel 8 and at least be walking distance from something interesting. The mechanics don’t know of any car rental agencies, but I ask Karrie at Motel 8 and she gets on the phone. “Hi, Enterprise? You’ll pick us up? N0?! But isn’t that the basis for your ad campaign? Well, do you have a car? Can these boys take to the east coast and leave it there? Great.”
“So how am I going to get you boys to Fort Wayne [an hour away]? I know. My brother Mitch’ll drive two hours out of his way on a Saturday night to get you guys there…” And he did. Enterprise lied. They didn’t have a car for us. But Budget did. So I drove, starting at ten at night, through the night, all the way to Hyannis, MA, stopping in New York and dropping P. Nice in Providence on the way. Boy, that was fun.
But really there is nothing to complain about. We got to listen to Tarantula A.D.’s new album “Book of Sand” which is incredible. Go listen to it and buy it and all that stuff. They are linked from the frontpage of our myspace. We listened to Gorillaz. We listened to Keb’ Mo’. It was grand. Karrie and Mitch represented with some serious stamina show, adding their names to our soon-to-be-published stamina show all-stars. And we’re back. Home. At last. You’ll hear from me soon.
Say word: Filthy Motherlovin’ Rich
Say word: Karrie and Motherlovin’ Mitch
Peace and War(m soup),
The Great Dunlap