8/27/01

Milepost 54, I90 Montana

Got out to the farm yesterday at 3:30. Found my floor tom and cymbals sitting by the back, obviously not fitting. They tried to talk me into packing one tom inside the other. I adamantly refused and promptly fit them into the van without too much trouble. After another hour or so of trying to squeeze all our shit into the hamburger luggage rack and the rest of the van, we loaded all our extra merch to return to KRS. We drove into town, a 20 minute drive, oh but not before we had to turn around to get Justin’s keys since it was Sunday and KRS was locked up. We got there and found that the intern had locked the only door that no one had a key to. So Justin had to climb in the window. We get all this done and Vern realizes he left his cell phone back at the farm. So we go back and find that Mike has locked the farm for the first time ever and Justin doesn’t have a key and the key Mike has doesn’t work. Some how we got in and Vern got his phone. So now its 6:30 and we’ve been in the van for 2 hours and we’re not even out of Lacey. Traffic sucks all the way to Seattle, but we cruise once we hit I90. We drive til 1:30am and stop at a Super 8 in Coeur d’Alen, ID.

Monday

At milepost 54, into Montana, we run out of gas. Our gas gauge was busted when we got the van and we didn’t have time to get it fixed. Luckily, Doughman immediately flags down some lady who takes him a mile up the road to The Stage Coach Inn, which is a log cabin style bar + grill with slot machines and one gas pump at $1.89 per gallon (I think this was expensive at the time, which is why I noted it. HA! –ed). After jokes about serial killers and Dave’s head being tossed back to us by the lady who picked him up as she drives by, Dave turns up with a milk jug full of gas. With a couple of broken bottles, we manage to get the gas into the tank, but it won’t start. We’ve managed to kill the battery. Did I mention how fucking hot it is? It is. So we flag a truck down who says he can’t charge us because he’s afraid he’ll fry our battery. Oh yeah, no one will stop until I get out there and then we have no trouble getting people to stop. Funny that. Finally a guardian angel appears. A silent young man in a Honda who tries giving us a jump until we realize 1 gallon isn’t enough to get the van going again. So he takes Wilcox up to the casino and gets another gallon. Then drives him back (very nice!) and waits til we need another jump and hangs around, still silent, til we finally get started. I give him a CD, shake his hand and we’re off again.