We broke down yesterday on our way from flagstaff to Tucson. We didn't make it very far. Just half way to Phoenix. We're in the middle of the desert and we hear some band whining and grinding sounds from the engine and then smoke starts coming out the air vents. Turns out something has seized and a belt is just grinding itself up and we're smelling burning rubber. Fortunately we're right by an exit and we can pull over but as our luck would have it there is nothing in sight. We're pulled over in the middle of nowhere with nothing but cactus as far as the eye can see. We can barely get signal on the cell phone but we climb to the top of a small hill and are able to reach AAA. The tow truck driver that comes to pick us up is what one might refer to as a character. He throws us on his bed and we take off all four of us cramming in his cab and we plot a scheme whereby with both Mr. Pokey's AAA and mine we can get towed all the way to Tucson and make the show. Then we can try and get the van fixed the next day which is unfortunately a Sunday so we're screwed. Eventually we'll be saved by folks who are nice enough to lend us their van so we can play tonight in Phoenix as we're coming back to Tucson tomorrow to record for a few days but that's another story. We're basically with this tow truck guy named Bob for about four and a half hours and he does not stop talking for one moment the entire time. The more he gets comfortable the more he starts letting loose. Telling us off center jokes and going on about Bill Murray comedies and eventually really digging in and spewing all his conspiracy theories about Bush and about how Kennedy killed Marilyn Monroe, and about how he hauled choppers to Brad Pitt and had to threaten his personal manager and about how he had to break a guys leg when he was reposessing his hummer. At a certain point I realized I just couldn't even follow a word the guy was saying. Entertaining but completely exhausting. It was like his overwhelming and constantly ramping up energy was literally sucking the life out of us like a vampire. As the trip went on he got more and more chummy slapping me in the arm to make a point and swerving from side to side on the highway as he used both hands to make a point leaving the van to steer itself. Half way to Tucson we stopped so that we could call in the second tow to AAA and in the parking lot Mr. Pokey met his brother who lives nearby and took off with him. That was a bizarre parking lot where immediately one group of golf bag toting people wanted to pay Bob to fix their flat tire because they didn't want to get their hands dirty and another group of people wanted Bob to haul a stolen car back to Phoenix for them. By the time we arrived in Tucson we were starting to lose it and as we got within blocks of the club after Bob had been talking like a machine gun for almost five hours straight he turned to us and he said, "so what about you guys? What kind of music do you play? Do you get wasted after the shows?" Our exhausted answers didn't excite him and he told us we were boring. Bob dropped our van in the parking lot of Plush and we had to unload and sound check and play a show. Tony and I exchanged a look as if to say how exhausting the whole thing was and how could we possibly find the energy to play a show but we were unable to actually find the energy to voice the words. We've been touring for nearly three months and we're right at the end and we did not realize how exhausted and worn down we were until Bob and his stories of growing up in long island and going to the Nassau Colleseum to see the Wall and The Who and Led Zepplin and beating people up and hating rap and smashing his kids rap records just broke our backs and crushed our spirits. Now we're trying to suck it up and get ready for one more show tonight and then three days of recording and then the killer drive from Tucscon to New Orleans and a final show on Saturday at DBA. Can we make it? Stay tuned...