Friday, August 18, 2006

What's a Birdmonster to do? Beside the cursing and the punching, that is.

Here's the situation: we're trundling toward
Phoenix after a three hour detour (not to be
confused with a three hour tour) wherein we were
waylayed by the border patrol, two mechanics
who shut their shops as soon as we cruised in, atop
a tow truck, naturally, finally found one guy who,
after originally being unable to find the culprit
that sidelined Patrick Stewart, opened the hood
again and pronounced the transmission "fucked."
Now, your typical transmission runs about two
grand and, since this lemon only cost us two and a
half to begin with, well, that's not really a viable
option. Neither is renting, since that'd be twice as
much and we'd be left with a stranded Sir Patrick
and nothing for our next journey around the
States. Ixnay on that too. What we're left with
then is the unfortunate necessity of actually
buying another van. Which eats shit, obviously. The
big issue is that we pretty much have to do this
tomorrow, in Phoenix, and figure out a way to
ditch this infuriating piece of machinery, then play
a show that evening. Honestly, I'm a mess. I'm
shaking my fist at the Gods. But it's this or cancel
the tour and we aren't willing to do that. We'll
steal circus elephants and ride them to New York
if we have to. At this point, that's probably our
second best option.

On a lighter and quasi-related note, I'm reading the
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy right now. On the
cover of the eponymous book, there are two
words: Don't Panic. Good advice if you can follow
it. Don't Sink Into A Hole of Self-Pity and
Righteous Anger is also good advice at this
juncture. I've got a roommate who's fond of
saying, "at least you aren't picked shrapnel out of
your ass." That's another good thing to keep in

Man. I don't know. I usually have a misguided, silly,
and sometimes-infuriating-to-others faith that
everything will work out just fine but that faith is
being tested right now. Cross your fingers for us,
say some prayers our way, and stick a few
needles in the eyes of that voodoo doll of the
CEO of Ford for us too, while you're at it.

Oh yeah: if there's anyone in Phoenix who has a
free van, we'd really, really appreciate it. We
promise to immortalize you in song.


Gasoline Hobo said...

holy fuck! to say that your situation is shitty is to give new meaning to the phrase "explosive diarrhea". i would definitely avoid arizona in the future. nothing there but dry heat, desperate shrubbery and lawns made of gravel.

i've had my share of vehicle problems, and can attest to the fact that they usually happen at the absolute worst possible moment.

have you considered getting a second opinion on the stricken ms. sir stewart?

i'd call out the hobo network to help you, but even hobos shun arizona...

jeffro said...

man - that sucks! perhaps you should have named the van Billy Shatner.

Douglas Adams will indeed teach you the answer to everything...

mike said...

Wow. I'm glad I saw you guys the night before this happened. That sucks. It's probably good that you didn't go out drinking with us, as the night we had would've made you deal with all of this with a hangover to boot.

Hopefully things are working out for you as I type. Good luck.

Ari said...

Ass to ass.

emmy said...

so what happened?! did you guys make it alright???

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