Worst "Tour" Ever

Hey everyone! Just thought we’d share with you the nightmare that has been the past 48 hours for us . . . It’s a pretty good story and we’re looking to get some mileage out of it. In my honest opinion, it reads something like an overwrought black comedy about the throes and consequences of journeying in blizzards with terrible luck as a near constant companion. We felt sort of postmodern, talking about how this “tour” felt like someone writing a really bad movie script, trying to think of more ways to screw up everything for the protagonists. At some point, though, the line was crossed and the script became a bit tasteless, and thus stale in its repetition and uninspired plot devices. Anyway, enough metaphysical meandering: on with the story (be mindful it was freezing cold during this whole ordeal, just to add to the general discomfort).

So, we leave for Cleveland last Friday, feeling good and looking forward to seeing the east coast. Even better, we’d just made sure our van was in top condition, paying $1400 for a thorough tune-up. As per ourselves, we’d forgotten our merch display in Madison, but John Paul from We the Living was nice enough to take care of that for us and had it waiting for us at his place mid-way through Wisconsin. Our first stop, then, was to pick up our merch display. After driving for about 2 hours and nearing JP’s house, our speedometer started freaking out. It was kind of like when folks talk about seeing a UFO and instruments start going crazy because of mysterious electromagnetic forces . . . so we got our hopes up thinking maybe we’d meet some aliens. Of course, that was irrational, and not the explanation, considering the speedometer didn’t settle back down. After about five minutes, we decided it couldn’t be aliens because we couldn’t possibly be that interesting to any extraterrestrial beings. Then, out of nowhere, it righted itself for a while. It was then that we noticed a strange sort of burning smell, so we decided to call a mechanic friend. He told us that when you have a new tail pipe installed a strange smell often accompanies, and thought maybe it was a computer error causing the problems with the speedometer. The explanation was simple enough and accounted for our van’s issues, so we figured he was right and decided to just get as far east as possible and get the van looked at in the morning.

After following some botched Mapquest directions we finally found JP’s place, got our merch display, and got back on the road. At this point we were close to Madison, Dan was pretty tired from driving, and it was getting late (not to mention the overdrive in our transmission turned off and the check engine light was on), so we pulled over and checked into a Super 8 (our hotel chain of choice . . . it’s cheap and has free wi-fi). Dan and I took “find a repair shop and get the damn van fixed” duty, as Mark was planning on driving the next day (Mike I have no excuse for, but it’s not like you need three people to find a repair shop). After trying to sleep for four hours, Dan and I got out of bed, sleepless, and, in the freezing cold (something weird with our heater), got dressed and went to the front lobby. We learned Evel Knievel died, ate a breakfast of toasted wonder bread and English muffins, and started calling repair shops. There was one about 200 yards away at a gas station, and since we couldn’t get them on the phone, we walked over to see when they opened. It was bitter cold (like 10 degrees maybe, with a wicked wind chill), and it was a brutal walk. After learning we were 20 minutes early (the shop opened at 7), we resigned ourselves to passing some time in the lobby, eating more free “breakfast,” and watching Sports Center. At 7, we went to the repair shop, only to learn that the shop is by appointment on Saturdays, and the mechanic had no appointments, so he wouldn’t be coming. Disappointed, we went back and confirmed an appointment at another shop, but it was a few miles away. Since we couldn’t leave the van there and walk back to the hotel, we had to get everyone going early (like 7:45) and get over to the other shop.

Once there, they told us that they weren’t sure when they’d be able to look at it, but it would be $87 an hour. This was also disappointing. It hadn’t gotten warmer, despite the recent appearance of the sun, and though we were hungry, we couldn’t bear walking a couple miles in the cold for the marginal reward of a BK breakfast (though this may be debatable). Thus, we read to pass the time, and after a reasonable wait, they got to checking our van. To sum it up, the first words out of the mechanics mouth were “Bad news, guys.” Fantastic. Apparently, when the last shop put the new tail pipe on, he didn’t quite connect the pipe to the exhaust or something, and it overheated the back half underneath the van and incinerated the speedometer sensor and a transmission sensor. It had started to snow, and there were reports of a huge storm blowing our way from the west, and with a van in need of repair, we figured we should make a decision quickly. It would be two days before this particular shop could fix us up, and expensive, so the mechanic told us it would be best to get home as quickly as possible. The snow was coming down pretty quickly by this point, but the van still worked, and we decided to go for it.

After a BK breakfast (I suppose it had to happen), we got going. However, the storm created an evil Lord of the Rings style mist around us, and we couldn’t really see more than maybe 30 feet in each direction. It was like driving through the mountain pass in the Misty Mountains, and we kept expecting an Abominable Snowman or a Yeti to come screaming out of the haze to kill us. Or a semi-truck. Needless to say, it was a somewhat terrifying experience, driving through that blizzard, and I’m amazed Mark wasn’t more fazed than he was. A hundred miles later, the transmission decided it had had enough, and that’s not the sort of thing you want to push too hard, because it is spiteful creature. The jolts were unnerving, and the exit could not have come any sooner. We got down the exit ramp, got the van far enough to coast it into a gas station, and as soon as we pulled in, the van died. This was the best luck we’d had all day. After waiting on the phone with AAA forever, they told us a tow truck was on its way to take us back to the Twin Cities. This was exciting.

Ten minutes later, AAA called back to inform us that 17 cars crashed into each other and all tow trucks would be busy “cleaning that up.” This was depressing on many levels. We found a guy to take us back the next day (Sunday), so after hanging out in the van and the gas station for a couple of hours trying to figure out what to do, we learned there was an old motel within walking distance, and the guy who was towing us was going to stop by and get our van to the motel. This might be the best thing that happened the whole trip (not having to freeze to death, that is), if that puts things perspective.

The hotel was reminiscent of the Bate’s motel, Psycho-style, and the sign out front actually read “closed” (we have footage of this, it will be in a vlog). We were scared for our lives. At any point we were ready for an axe-murdering psychopath to burst into the room and end all this, but luckily it didn’t happen. Instead, we visited the bar and found happiness for a little while (though this came at the price of trudging through snow, and a hangover for some today). We had to be up fairly early today (Sunday) to make sure we caught the tow-truck driver’s call, and because Dan’s very generous friends Jeremy and Stacey were coming to haul our trailer back home (tow truck companies don’t really take vans and trailers . . . we would have needed two and we can’t afford that). I woke up early, the others slept, so I passed the time at the bar watching Final Destination 2 (not recommended). Around 1 or so everyone showed up and we got on the road. We assumed we’d be home in a couple hours, which was exciting, and it seemed that our misadventure would soon be over. Not so.

Our tow truck driver had to stop at a weigh station, and since he was following us, we didn’t catch this and pulled up to the next exit to wait. A few minutes later we get a call, from a police officer, saying our tow truck driver had some legal issues that would take 45 minutes to resolve. We found this mildly annoying, but all things considered (and what we’d already been through), we figured we could put up with it. We explored a Wal-Mart to pass the time.

Thirty minutes later we get a call saying that our tow truck driver isn’t legally allowed to take us into Minnesota, his license is temporarily suspended (for ten hours . . . go figure), and that we should come back to the weigh station. Awesome. And ridiculous. We head back, learn that we have to find a company “legally” allowed to take us home. This proves difficult. And takes a long time. After a few hours, we find one, but it has to come from Minneapolis, and will cost us $380 or so (this is on top of the $500 we paid the first guy . . . this will all be rectified in our favor, or so we hope). At this point, we just want to go home, so we bite the bullet and get on our way.

Anyway, we’re hoping to get our truck fixed early tomorrow and get back on the road (we’ve already missed something like three shows, all of which we were looking forward to, and want to miss as few as possible in the coming week). Wish us luck, and hopefully we’ll be back out rocking soon. What’s kind of ridiculous is that we ostensibly drove to Madison to sleep in a hotel, and then got towed home, and it cost us a lot of money. And we still haven’t played a show. Thanks for reading this novel of a blog!

- Joe