The America I Know

The band was on I-90 between Sioux Falls and Rapid City, South Dakota. As a soul travels on I-90 you can't help but notice all the signage for Wall Drugs on the edge of the Badlands and Black Hills. Ice water. Free coffee. Jackalopes. Giant Brontosaurus.

We didn't have proper trailer tires all the way around and long after any service station is open a tire blew out. It was the front tire on the trailer and as it came apart the second tire separated from its tread and nearly beat the fender off of the trailer.

We limped along and got off the interstate at the Wall Drug exit. The town was closed up tight at 11PM. We pulled into a service station that looked like it might have some used tires. We figured we'd wait until the next morning when they opened.

After gazing around our immediate vicinity for any signs of life, a convenience store, a Waffle House, maybe a fucking bar...Nothing. It's going to be a long wait with no food, no booze and we were out of weed (Running out or going to jail happened a lot back when America was great).

We were contemplating disconnecting our disabled trailer so we could ride around in search of ....something, anything. We didn't want to leave it blocking the gas pumps and whatnot.

We aren't the quietest humans on the planet, we busted each others balls constantly and called each other bad names as we discussed the best place to drop the trailer. It's kind of similar to being in any, all male environment.

A fellow living above the service station hollered down, "You guys need some help?"

"We got some blown out..." we begin to say.

"I can't hear ya. I'll be right down,"

It was the mechanic of the shop. "Looks like you boys had a bit of a accident" he says in the "Fargo" sounding accent.

He opened up the shop, cranked on the big air compressor (which is loud in the daytime but in the still of the night it sounded like the giant dinosaur had come to life) and went to work on our trailer. We told him money was an issue for us but that didn't concern him.

He was more interested in getting us back on the road, safely. We told him we couldn't afford the tires he was putting on, there's no way we can pay him for fixing the fender on the trailer.

"Pay me what you can" he said when he was finished about an hour and a half later.

We had already pooled all of our money, including the booking agents commission money from the last gig. He had us pull the van up to the gas pumps to top off our fuel as we were down to a quarter of a tank.

We tried to hand him the money but he declined it saying, "Maybe somebody will help me out one day..."

"Thank you so much" we said in disbelief.

"Yeah, Sure, ya bet cha'", he grinned. "I'll come by the [#]10 to see ya play" (the Saloon Number 10, Deadwood).

Sure enough, he showed up that weekend. We hooked him up with the "water girls" (they drank water until someone bought them a cocktail). They were fun girls. The types that a mechanic in Wall, SD probably wouldn't have met otherwise. The perks of knowing the band.

"Thanks for introducing me to the girls", he said.

"Yeah. Sure, ya bet cha!" 😉

Then there was the time a skunk got wedged under the front of the trailer, maybe another time or blog.

Peace, Pot and Love!

Home made band trailer...No shit...