We started and ended our day with James residences, arriving at the elder generation’s in Lincoln, half a day after leaving that of the younger in Willamette Mtn., UT. We look haggard and reek intensely of garlic. The former we were aware of, thanks to numerous gas station mirrors along the way, the latter we were informed of gently by a concerned Mr. James—“Have you been eating hummus?”
The blog is shortly being taken over by the one,
We left this morning at 6:45 a.m., an impressive forty-five minutes after our intended departure time. The punctuality continued with our new tour manager, Pablo, at the wheel. Our GPS recorded a peak speed for the trip of 95.3 mph, inspiring pride in both “Pabs” and our road-worn van, Betty. Flying across the Midwest plains, the roadside windmills swept us along with their giant arms.
Nearing the Nebraskan border we happened upon a guitar-slinging hitchhiker and, looking from each other to the empty seat and back, hastily pulled over. This fellow traveling musician was making his way back to Manhattan after leaving for California on a songwriting pilgrimage in October. Joshua, eager to try out his new handheld stereo recorder, quickly coaxed him into playing a song for us. Hesitant at first, he became increasingly enthusiastic and the performance grew to include the results of his songwriting journey, intriguing back-stories, and some Beatles covers (his “moneymakers” at rest stops and subway stations). As if shocked at what he had let himself be talked into, he anxiously asked us to drop him off at the next small town, where he planned to sleep on the lawn of a church—a man after our own hearts. A sample of the recording can be heard above and will likely be the last “Van Session,” as the seat will be filled tomorrow by Joe, our keyboard player.
In the canyons beyond Park City we spotted two coyotes messily devouring a deer. We aren’t a particularly superstitious bunch, but this was obviously an omen of great significance. The two coyotes surely symbolized the two legs of our tour, one with Third Eye Blind, the other with Matthew Perryman Jones. The deer would be … well the American public, I guess, who would fall to us like prey. Or perhaps just the plentiful bounty we would receive for our efforts. Either way, the Universe was smiling upon us