On Monday, I had the pleasure/duty/honor of selling our band van, Blanche, to a private individual, who will remain unnamed. It was a bittersweet moment in my life and the life of the band. It was sweet because Blanche liked to imbibe in la gasolina a bit too much. It was bitter because as much as we (or maybe just I) were afraid of the wheels flying off and causing a horrific accident, Blanche became more than a van to us.

It’s funny how bands anthropomorphize their vans. I’ve seen many bands do it. I guess that it comes from spending so much time in their respective vans and building a working history with them. The same was true of Blanche. She crossed the northeast so many times, I don’t even think I can remember or count them all.

Sadly, shortly after we bought her, Blanche developed cancer. It ate away at her fenders, wheel wells, and floorboards. She passed inspections before, but this year there was no possible way that she could pass, so we decided to put her to pasture.

So despite not having Blanche anymore, we now have much cheaper gasoline tabs. We are currently borrowing a vehicle in the interim until our next vehicle comes along. The one question that remains is, will the new vehicle be male or female?

Blanche
1993-2008
Rust in Peace

So, All morning I’ve been mulling over a growing list of things that I have to remember to pack in the car to take to the Garden State. Of course there are things like underwear and socks, but more important stuff, too, like the vinyl test pressings that came in the mail on Wednesday, and the tiny, two octave synth that I will be playing at the show in Nyack, NY.

I seem to always put things off until the last minute and think that I can hold the list of everything that I need to pack in my head, but inevitably I forget at least one thing. You think I would learn to pack the night before or make a list on paper, but no, I’m too stubborn or lazy to do practical things like that. Someday I will mature into a person who is not a procrastinator and gets his lists on paper.

I really am excited about the show tomorrow night. Like I said previously, I get to play my parts on a 2 octave synth. It has been fun practicing (I’m not much of a piano player) and creating the synth bass sounds. It’s also been refreshing to see the songs in a new way.

I’m also excited that we can fit everything that needs to go into our teeny tiny VW Golf. Being the pack-master that I am, it will all fit and have enough room leftover for 3 of us to ride comfortably on the 6-7 hour trip. Should be a rockin’ time on I-80.

Driving the Golf is a relief because every time an out of town show looms near, I start to tremble with fear because of our ailing van, Blanche. For a long time I have been concerned that the wheels will simply fly off when we’re on the road because of the way she looks and feels on the road. It’s also got more rust than most abandoned Pittsburgh factories. I refuse to let anyone else drive because I somehow believe that due to my past employment as a professional school bus driver, I will be able to handle Blanche safely in case her wheels actually do come off or all of our gear fall through the growing rust holes on the floor of the cargo area. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m also a bit of a compulsive control freak. Maybe someday I’ll grow out of that, too. It will probably happen when we get a new van.

The strong mug of gunpowder green tea that I drank and the Field Music album that I’m listening to is getting me excited to drive on I-80. The caffeine may explain my stream-of-consciousness style post.

Apologetically yours (for the rambling post),
Trevor

dear reader,

familiar with the title? it’s a pretty knock-out line from a slightly forgettable band.

there are some visuals that will probably never cease to call to mind the rise and urgency of that phrase; it could be taken as a proud proof or an arrogant justification. in my case, it’s probably both.

this is my beloved rav4 yesterday at the impound yard. the adjuster had just declared it totalled (in fact, he said it wasn’t reparable at all), since the floor and frame of the car are significantly bent. they’re so bent i was unable to open the opposite passenger door, or the trunk. the driver’s seat in which i was sitting was alone unspoiled (albeit covered in glass).

the background, for those of you who care, is that my last car was totalled less than a year ago in a four-car pileup at 65 mph on route 80. i was driving home from a show, of course, and it was dark. my little geo prizm was rear-ended by a blazer, and i was happy to be alive. even happier was the realization that i had inexplicably decided to put all my gear in the backseat rather than the trunk, since it looked like this:

on friday, the conditions were certainly more mundane, but i still had a little deja vu. it’s hard not to feel shaken up emotionally–one is generally shaken up physically–and i’m not someone accustomed to destroying things that otherwise would’ve had a long life ahead of them. when the geo was totalled, i had to face up to the fact that my lifestyle of living on the road, in my car, for 3,000+ miles a month was the culprit, and with a minimum of soul-searching i re-committed myself to that very lifestyle. i love music. i love it. i’ll never stop connecting with my world and the people in it through songwriting, through loading whatever car i’m blessed with to the gills with gear and hauling to some club where i can inhale cigarette smoke that undoubtedly accelerates the inevitable destruction of my voice in the hope that the truth is louder than the beer. now that the rav is totalled, i stare that choice in the face again, realize again that i am lucky to be alive, and can’t help knowing that my response is just going to be taking the same risks, only more. i’m not going to play it safer. i can’t; it’s too late now.

so after i cleaned out the innumerable cdrs, pens, mic stands & clips, and scraps of paper from the wreckage, it occurred to me that there was probably still a cd in the cd player. reconnecting with whatever i was listening to at the moment of the crash seemed like a good way to make some peace with the whole thing, so i ejected the disc (not without some surprise that it came right out!). one of my show-weekend mixes, “misc. for another friday,” was the cd that escaped happily from the deck.

another friday, indeed; these wrecks are just part of it all. sing it, wheat!–they’re things i did for my love.