Posted by Mark David Manders
Sun, 10 Oct 2004 12:00:00 GMT
I woke up to the movement of the bus somewhere around 8:00 this morning and figured that someone got up early. We played Tommy Alverson’s Family Gathering in Glen Rose last night and, believe it or not, we actually made it to bed at a decent hour. Grant pulled over at the convenience store just outside the festival grounds and everyone rolled out of their bunks for our morning coffee and it looked like it was going to be an easy ride home. Yeah, right.
I meant to bring some new videos from the house when we left Friday but I forgot. So I threw in “Platoon” for the forth time this road trip as we ate our breakfast. Just about the time that Charlie Sheen gets shot we heard a loud noise underneath the bus. At first I thought Grant ran over something in the road but then he said, “Hey man, something’s wrong with the bus.” I didn’t know exactly where we were but we had enough momentum to coast down the highway and make it to the exit ramp.
It rained last night and the road was wet. No problem, I’m getting used to crawling up under the bus in the water. I changed into an old pair of jeans, grabbed a couple wrenches and a flashlight and headed for the back of the bus. I really thought the clutch had gone out again and I was ready to adjust it, but I soon found out the clutch was not the problem. The loud noise we heard was the U-joint snapping and the drive shaft banging against the cross member. It looked like someone set off a bomb down there- oil dripping all over the place and pieces of twisted metal and sheered off auto parts.
We weren’t going anywhere in a hurry. Now at times like this there are two things you can do. You can sit around and cry and bitch and moan or you can make the best of it. Fortunately we have become used to the bus crapping out on us and we chose the ladder. Steve took the opportunity to take some great “broke down on the side of the road” snap shots. The rest of us got the television going and tuned in to the Dallas Cowboy pre-game show.
About ten minutes later a pick up truck rolled up so I went to see if they could help. I didn’t realize it at the time but I was covered from head to toe in grease and wearing my orange Los Angeles County Jail shirt. Now if I were the man behind the wheel of that truck and I saw me I’d probably have just kept on driving but luckily Jerry Massey didn’t. I asked him if he could give us a ride to Irving to pick up our vehicles and he said he’d have to miss church but it was alright.
Grant and John hopped in Jerry’s truck and off they went. Jerry had to stop on the way to feed his cattle and then he took the boys over to Irving where we had picked up the bus on Friday.
About an hour later Grant and John showed back up at the bus along with Jerry. Jerry came on the bus and we had a great conversation about music, college football, and our bus. The part about the bus went like this:
“This bus used to belong to the Bellamy Brothers, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, I wonder if they had as many problems with as we’ve had.”
“Well, Mark, why do you think they sold it?”
Sometimes it takes an outsider to put things into perspective.
We all thanked Jerry and he went on his way.
Now, when a bus breaks down it’s kind of like dating an ugly girl- you really don’t want anyone to see you. Fortunately for us we were far enough off the highway that you really couldn’t see the bus unless you were looking for it. Never the less, we unloaded all the equipment and luggage into the trailer in record time. John and Steve left for Austin. Grant, Heather, and I hopped in the suburban and went back two miles down Highway 67 to see what exactly fell off the bus. I felt like we were searching for debris from the space shuttle. What we found was big enough to have come off of the space shuttle.
Heather was the first to spot it. She said, “Is that the part we’re looking for?” On the side of the road was a very large, cone-shaped object. We hung a U and pulled over on the shoulder. Apparently the U joint didn’t break, the entire drive shaft assembly sheared and fell out. I got out and loaded up the remnants of our drive shaft and we dropped the entire mess off back at the bus.
Now it’s six o’clock and Grant and I are back on the road. Grant knows some damn good mechanics and believe it or not the bus is fixed. So after watching a depressing Dallas Cowboy game at my house we loaded back up in the suburban and now we’re heading back to the scene of the crime. If we break down again I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to tell you about it.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Fri, 01 Oct 2004 12:00:00 GMT
We played the Blue Light in Lubbock last night as a four-piece. Rodney is out this weekend recovering from surgery on his wrist. The clutch still isn’t fixed on the bus so we’ve had to revert back to the suburban. It’s not quite as comfortable but even with over a hundred thousand miles it’s still pretty reliable.
We knew there was a possibility of rain in West Texas before we left and when we hit Post yesterday the clouds opened up with a torrential downpour. I don’t know why but every time we play Lubbock it rains. This time we actually thought we would see a tornado but we were spared. It did hail quite a bit though.
There was a great crowd at the Blue Light and it was fun to play acoustically again. The best part of the night was towards the end of the first set. I looked out into the crowd and saw two familiar faces. That’s right, our old buddies from the TABC were back. They just happened to be working the Depot District last night when they said they heard familiar sounding music coming from the Blue Light. No problems this time, although they did jokingly tell Grant that they were contemplating taking my beer from the stage just to see my reaction.
After the show I followed a few folks over to the Library for a drink. Then it was off to our wonderful rooms at the Koko Inn. If you’ve never stayed at the Koko you’re missing a unique experience. Back when I was in school in Lubbock the Koko Inn used to have regular black jack games two nights a week. The hotel bar was a favorite hangout and hook-up for the local prostitutes. I’ve heard that the hotel has cleaned up its act a little since then but overall it’s still a little shady.
Today’s ride home was rather uneventful. The weather was clear and cool. We stopped in Cisco at the Dairy Queen but other than that it was just miles and miles of nothing. Right now we’re stuck in traffic somewhere between Fort Worth and Dallas. God, I miss the bus.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Sun, 26 Sep 2004 12:00:00 GMT
We played the SAE Chili Cook-off pre-party in the parking lot of the Conference Café in Lubbock last night. At first we thought it was going to rain but by show time the clouds had cleared and it turned out to be a pleasantly cool evening. The SAE’s had put up a barrier fence around the parking lot and built us a stage out of old pallets covered with plywood. It worked rather well.
There were quite a few people when we arrived including our buddies from Amarillo. A few songs into the first set, however, I noticed an exodus from the parking lot into the bar. At first I thought maybe we had offended everyone but I soon found out what the problem was. Apparently the club forgot to pull a permit for serving alcohol outside. The TABC wasn’t very happy about this and they decided to send five or six agents to enforce the code.
I wasn’t very happy that most of our crowd had been forced to drink where they couldn’t even see us, but I decided to make the best of it…until the waitress came and removed our bucket of Coors Light from the stage. You know, there’s a reason we don’t play Coffee Houses. Country music and beer just seem to go together. Haven’t these guys ever seen “The Blues Brothers”?
Anyway, I pleaded my case from the stage to no avail. We were destined to either die of thirst or take a lot of breaks. We opted for one long break.
During the second set a city bus pulled up and about fifty or sixty people got out. They walked right past us and went in the bar where they could drink. So we played on. A few die-hards stayed outside and listened. The TABC officers liked the music. So did the pledges they had tearing down the barrier fence.
About halfway through the second set the waitress showed back up with five “waters with a slice of lime”. I’ve never been much of a gin drinker but it’ll do in a pinch.
I think we finally shut it down a little after one o’clock and went back to the hotel. Some time in the middle of the night the rain started. It continued all morning. It only takes a quarter of an inch of rain for Lubbock to flood and I’ll bet it had rained two inches by 9:00.
That’s about the time that Grant and I noticed the clutch slipping on the bus. We made several calls but couldn’t find a mechanic on duty qualified to work on cars, let alone a bus, so we decided to do it ourselves. Grant took Rodney’s truck and found a great deal on a set of combination wrenches. The only problem was who was going to get up under the bus in the inch deep puddle of water and tighten the clutch assembly. Did I mention that it was fifty-something degrees outside?
Somehow I got stuck being the mechanic. I crawled under the back of the bus, soaked to the bone, and went to work. My hands were shaking from the cold but I managed to free the nut on the clutch adjustment assembly. How do I know all this mechanical information and jargon? It’s easy, my last bus was a 1956 GM. Anyone who’s ever owned a fifty year-old bus for more than a week either sells it or learns how to fix it.
I adjusted the clutch then Grant and I took her for a test run. It wasn’t slipping quite as bad so I figured we might actually have a shot of making it to San Angelo. It took two more times under the beast until I finally got the clutch set right. Afterwards I treated myself to a warm shower and a dry set of clothes. Grant and I decided that we had better get on the road a little earlier than originally planned if we were going to make the show tonight. Yesterday we talked about going to the Omni Theater around noon today to catch a flick. Everyone except Grant and I had purchased their tickets last night, and since Rodney had driven his truck this weekend we decided we would take off early and meet the rest of the band in San Angelo or they could pick us up on the side of the road on their way down.
So far, so good. We are currently about ten miles outside of our destination. If you’re wondering how it took me two and a half hours to type this entry the answer is I type real slow. Anyway, it looks like we’re alright for the time being.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Fri, 21 Feb 2003 12:00:00 GMT
It hit me a little over a week ago. I was driving from College Station down to Houston Marchman’s house in Bastrop. It was one of those days when everything just seemed to be right with the world. It was sunny, seventy degrees and there was very little traffic on Highway 21.
I stopped at a gas station just east of Caldwell around noon. For less than ten dollars I walked out with a shoebox full of gizzards, a large cup of coffee, a pickled jalapeno, a honey bun, a large bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter.
Every car I came upon pulled over to the shoulder and let me pass. Almost every vehicle traveling in the opposite direction waved as they sped by.
Just east of the Brazos River I crossed one its small tributaries. The water was maybe eighteen inches deep, crystal clear, and for a moment I thought I was looking at the Medina River down in the hill country.
As I continued on past farm after farm I noticed pastures with winter oats and rye grass from four to six inches tall. Some of the farmhouses already had clumps of fan-shaped iris reaching up above the dormant Bermuda grass. Here and there I saw stock tanks just begging me to wet a line.
Then I realized what was happening- I was experiencing my first taste of spring. I knew what would come next.
This is the time of year when Mother Nature taunts us with four straight days of highs approaching eighty degrees followed by an inch of snow. It’s a contest of will that pits our anticipation against our patience.
The reward is short-lived in Texas. Spring-like weather, I mean true, mild weather with no threat of a Northern blowing through, usually only lasts a week or two in April before the season gives way to the summer heat of May.
Today, as we drive toward San Angelo, it is my patience that is being put to the test. It has rained or drizzled since we left Dallas. The temperature has not risen above fifty degrees and the wind has been from the Northwest and gusty at times, only intensifying the chill.
But despite the dreary weather the drive has been pleasant. I haven’t had to get behind the wheel all day. Lance decided to drive the entire way and he is making good time. Staring out the windshield from our comfortable Suburban our surroundings may not look and feel as they did last Wednesday, but I know that warm weather is just around the corner and, for me today, my patience has prevailed.
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Posted by Mark David Manders
Tue, 18 Feb 2003 12:00:00 GMT
Today I received an e-mail from Jonni with the chat group today asking who Sam Lewis was. Here is my reply:
Sam Lewis, better known as Jalapeno Sam, was a very close friend of mine who passed away in January of cancer. Sam was from San Angelo but also had an armadillo farm across the creek from Luckenbach. I first met him about ten years ago at the Terlingua Chili Cook off. He was one of the original characters and, among chili heads, as well-known and respected as Hondo Crouch.
I could go on for days telling you about this incredible man. Every time I played Terlingua Sam would sell product for me and whenever he was in Angelo while I was playing he’d bring me his famous jalapeno-stuffed olives. He was a soft-spoken man with a twinkle in his eye who never drank anything but coffee and he could tell stories with the best of them.
I was in San Angelo when I heard the news that Hospice was tending to Sam at his house so I stopped by to say my farewells. It was New Year’s Eve and Sam was in bad shape. This was the hardest thing I think I’ve ever done in my life, but I was grateful to get the chance to tell Sam how much I loved him. He was like a grandfather to me.
Sam told me there on his deathbed that I was his favorite entertainer. He asked me to throw a wake in his honor down in Luckenbach which I agreed to and the date is set for Sunday, March 30th. (I have to add this little tidbit to show that Sam was true to his form even facing death.) When he asked me about his wake I began thinking out loud of what date might work. I said to Sam, “I really can’t think of my schedule right now, but is there any time you would prefer the wake?” I thought maybe he would want it during one of the chili cook-offs or some other event that he was involved in over the years down in Luckenbach. Sam patted my arm and smiled and replied, “Well, Mark, the best time for my wake is probably after I’m dead!” We both laughed out loud for several minutes. That was the last time I heard Sam Lewis laugh.
On January 10th I received a call from Blaine Martin informing that Sam Lewis had passed away in his sleep just after midnight. I was on the road and unable to make the funeral, but Gary P. Nunn did. He sang “London Homesick Blues” at the gravesite and there wasn’t a dry eye around. Gary has also agreed to play Luckenbach on the 30th.
For those that knew Sam Lewis his passing was a terrible loss. The Terlingua Chili Cook-off will never be the same. Texas has lost yet another favorite son.
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