Portland to Bend - I think I'm in a relationship ... with a bus.

I left my house before the sunrise.

I got a ride from my mom to the bus like I was going to summer camp.  It was awesome.

We loaded up and hit the road, around 10 or 10:30.

We stopped for gas in Brooks and decided we would try the commercial truck pumps.  It took longer than it might have had we chosen the regular pumps but the turn around was easier and the bus is a magnet for former Pennsylvania State Senator turn truckers and other school bus aficionados.

Lesson 1: Truckers love old trucks - go figure.  Lesson 2: If I keep my mouth shut people assume the bus is mine. Lesson 3: I might get my picture in a copy of Truck Stop News and The Good News - okay that's not even close to a lesson.



We let out of Brooks and started climbing the hills outside of Salem and Lukati come up and tell me they are smelling something that resembles no good, creeping up from the back of the bus.  I'm praying that maybe it's just something coming off the exhaust and that it'll go away - but it doesn't.  I suspected brakes, because the further back you get the less there is to break. We found a place to pull over and when we got out the right rear brake was smoking, I mean really smoking.  Pouring out a sweet heavy white smoke that was almost steamy. Luke made a call to this guy, Brian, we refer to as "The Doctor". He either does or used to work on maintaining the school bus fleet for the Astoria Public School district. He's more like a bus magician, he makes bus problems disappear.  He talks Luke through adjusting the tolerance on the brakes and with in 1 hr we are back in business.  I didn't even get to make everyone pee on the brakes to cool them down - shame, damn shame.

So the rest of the ride into Bend was magic. We cruised right on in and we're only an hour late.

They had reserved a spot right out front and as I'm backing into the parking spots out front some dude slips into one of "my spots" behind me.  So I do what I would do if I were in my pick up; I rev the engine at him like I'm going to take off.  The thing is when I do it the Rpm's don't come back down. I freak out. I shut off the engine. Stand up and run out of the bus yelling "Ay! ... Ay! Ay!... Ay!" like I'm in New York trying to get someones attention.  Fortunately for me this guy was so cool.  He said he was just going to run into Starbucks and get a cup of coffee and offered to help me back up, he indicated that there was plenty of space and when I calmed down enough to open my eyes, he was right. When I got back to the bus Israel was in the drivers seat and he tried to back it up, but couldn't get it into gear with the RPM's so high. So we shut it off, he went into sound check and I let the guy go get his coffee. Man, I hope I thanked him for waiting around and just being cool.

I blocked off the remaining spaces so that this same scenario would not repeat itself. I thought about what needed to happen to get the bus out of the wheel chair access spot. I started the bus in reverse with the clutch in, backed out of the universal access space. That cured, I settled into diagnosis of the bus. I knew it had to be a throttle problem so I followed the linkages back to where the movement of the pedal meets the flow of diesel into the engine, but did not see anything really amiss. After sound check Luke came out and we went through it he concluded the same thing but we are out there scratching our heads like chimps - outside the streets were filling up and people are starting to recognize Luke.  

Israel's mother is awesome, okay his father is really cool too, but the story follows his mother's line.  Israel's mother has a brother names Rhomie, Rhomie K. Thompson. Israel and his family are out eating dinner and he relays the story to Uncle Rhomie, and dinner goes on. Uncle Rhomie lets it marinate like its a cross word puzzle clue and eventually the light bulb goes off.  "I bet it's the spring", he says.  I don't know if he ran right out to tell us or if he waited until a more socially acceptable moment but he comes out tells Luke and I while we're under the bus and sure enough, it's the spring.

I spend the next hour and a half trying to get the spring to hook to the throttle to no avail. Right before the opener Sara Jackson-Holman starts, Rhomie comes out and lets me know he'll take a look at it later and that at his house, which is pretty close, he's got wire and tools and anything that we'd need to get it square. So I give up like I just got the call to "Go back in there and wait for The Wolf, who should be coming directly."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojTKkfgvwvU

Greasy, frightened, hungry, exhausted and feeling out of place I enter the venue with the desire to go back stage and get some food. Sara Jackson-Holman has just come on-stage, so I don't want to make a greasy scene walking up the side stage stairs while she's up there doing her thing.  I stand and watch. My old friend Shelly Dennis comes up behind me and we hang out and watch the show.  Sara Jackson-Holman is amazing. She's really mesmerizing.  Her tone and style will kill you, if you're not vigilant. She did a cover of "hallelujah", Leonard Cohen should hear it so as he can try to do it right next time.

http://www.myspace.com/sarajacksonholman

After her set I excused myself to the rear of the auditorium, conveniently timed so that I could tell Sara Jackson-Holman that her shit was ridiculously good, that she sounded amazing and so I could tell the band that they sounded great. Which they did, from where I was standing each piece was crystal.

I got back stage and got some pizza, celery, Odwalla and a couple of breadsticks, which set things right and headed out before the band took the stage.

It's been a couple of months since Blind Pilot's played in front of an audience but the musicians in the band all take their art with ferocious seriousness.  I wish I had the capacity to look at residential real estate appraisal in the same way that this band looks at music. Maybe that's why they're so successful;  They don't fuck around. They played some new songs, in which Lukati and Israel are all singing out in harmony. I like it when they sing out, it's like they're pushing out the words with as much force as they can, they get to the point right before it all breaks and that's when it's the best.

There's a guy that lives in Bend, he's originally from Portland, his name is Ray Ray, but for the reminder of this article he'll be referred to as nipple guy.  He saunters up to the stage and when he passes I can see the mania on his face.  He walks up to the front of the stage and pulls up his shirt and flashes his nipples to the band.  It was funny.  He later attempted and partially succeeded in getting the band to autograph his sweatshirt. 

Israel switched guitars before playing "One Red Thread" and said something like "so much for broken strings" and then proceeded to break three strings during the song.  By the end he had so few strings that he didn't even need to chord.

He plays this old martin that he bought like ten years ago, it's notorious for breaking strings.  I don't know if the one he brought is the one with the burn on the neck.  I'll have to take a look, get some pictures and talk to him about it.  I suppose that'll be the topic of an upcoming article.

After the show Uncle Rhomie came out.  I showed him what we were working with.  Luke and I had been kicking ourselves for not bringing a pair of pliers or a pair of needle nose pliers specifically. Uncle Rhomie's first question when climbing under the bus is "you got a leatherman?" I'm slapping my head as I realize I wear a set of pliers everyday. 10 minutes later with the help has of nipple guy and his side kick (no jive) relaying messages between me in the cab and Rhomie under the bus. Rhomie's got the spring hooked up and has good suggestions for me to minimize the probability that this will happen again.  He leaves out the real important ones: be mindful, compassionate and, above all, remain calm.

I think somewhere I might of heard about some book maybe it was a guide book for adventures like this sayin' sumthin' 'bout Don't Panic. I have the sudden urge to go buy myself a towel.