I miss the smell of diesel fuel at the buttcrack of dawn. This realization came upon me yesterday morning as I was coming into work an hour early for a road trip to Chattanooga, where my boss had his diesel truck running in idle. It was a surprisingly good smell, and memories of band trips of the past came into my mind. . .
Get up, no time for shower, grab your stuff and go go go to the band hall, wait for the buses so you can get a good seat, talking through your chattering teeth to your teeth-chattering friends. Hey, they’re passing out the per diem, money money money, how much did you get? Dude, they better stop us at someplace cheap.
Oooh, the buses are here, rush rush rush to The Drum Bus Bus #2, claim your seat with your jacket and backpack full of amusing stuff. Find the Pit people, gather the instruments, make sure it’s packed, ReadY? One, two, lift! Into the belly of the bus, now do that five more times, is it all in? Fantabulous, I’m gonna go get some cheap coffee from the Sunshine Room, want some?
Hey, the sun’s coming up, think it might rain? So freezing cold, get on the bus and wait, wait, wait for 350 other people to situatie themselves, are we readY? Yeah, there goes JV, we’re ready, start up the bus, moving out. Road Trip!