Thursday, November 09, 2006

The Road To San Diego

So, the next morning was a few of what will be come to the same thing...the Starbucks stop. Nothing occurs before the Starbucks stop. Richard has an insane ability to see Starbucks. Man I cannot even see road signs, and this man is spotting Starbucks. He is like a great hunter looking for a mountain goat, or whatever metaphor applies to things that can see a long distance.

Starbucks day eye, and maple scone. A bit of heaven. Though that is some serious coffee, and it might be TOO MUCH for me. I worry that I look like a big sissy with all tha milk.

So we try to go this and that way in Tuscon. Finally finding the highway.

The van, our loving Ford, is a great van. A conversion van, four captain chair, and one bench. Enough room in the back for the box drum of the intrerpid drummer Tom Larson...and the holy guitars of Richard and Scott.

Then it was off, through the desert, to the dreamland of California.

While on the road the ipods came out, and a tradition was started telling what the first song that everyone heard on the ipod. Richard seemed to always find a Beatles song. At first I did not get it, then I got it.

The desert is gorgeous. Its where, like Graham Parsons, my family lays me to rest. Sorry for the downer. But it is so clear, clean. Binary almost.

So on the trip we experience Border Control twice. All the talk about immigration seems so silly. Both times the person asked, "Are you all American citizens?" Well yeah. Not drugs, or guns...or even show us some id. Just "well are you?", and then we were off.

While traveling we made our first foray into real altitude, and our loving van responsed the way all internal combustion engines would I struggling. But the van kept on keeping on. Blessings to Tom for getting us through that mountain pass.

We made it safe and sound, and a bit sweaty. It actually seemed like a really long drive, but it was not anything like the stuff to come.

The band spent a great chunk of time talking to their wives. And children. I gotta say it was a bit strange. That is not the norm for bands in my experience. I think it reflects the maturity of these guys, and the amazing women they all leave behind.

I was also amazed at Merch Guy Dereks ability to sleep the entire time. I can say honestly in the time I was in that van, I looked to the back seat only once, and it was like a little cave.

We got to San Diego like champs, and found Patricks II easily, and then our hotel. Our hotel was in El Cajon, and a colorful place. Right next to a great little Mexican restaraunt where Richard and Derek and I ate, while Scott and Tom seached out In and Out Burger.

Then, our heads hit the pillows.

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