There is a deliberate art to packing, especially when you drive an action van, the somewhat smaller and greatly more fuel-efficient cousin of the touring van. The Little Pieces van has one way to be packed, or nothing can happen at all. Herman and I both bring keyboard cases, which always puzzles people since that isn't what we're playing, but he can fit two guitars in his, and I can fit two basses in mine. Solid Tetris efficency. Rob has good bags for all his drums, the merch case fits onto my upturned amp, which holds the cymbal case in place. These are kept snug by sleeping pads, and buffeted by sleeping bags. Our personal bags hold the bass speaker from flying forward.
There is only one way.
We make several attempts to leave around 8 a.m., finally getting on the road and headed to San Diego. Unlike the PRINCELY GENTLEMAN DANDIES that comprise the Purrs, our touring companions, we intend to get down there in two days, not three. No one out-Road Warriors the Little Pieces, we drive solid with shotguns and flamethrowers, blowing up gas stations and diners, shooting firebombs at Fresno, and making great time.
We stop in Portland for a little 11 am Thai food, jump back on the highway and encounter a massive drenching rainstorm that plagues us for around ten hours of driving. Semi-trucks are overturned up in the mountain passes, the rain pours harder than the wipers will push away. Water rolls in sheets down the road, we can barely see a thing. All of us do shifts through the mountains of southern Oregon and Northern California--Herman, Rob, then me. It's some pretty whiteknuckle stuff, but we finally drop out of the mountains and hit Redding, CA, the top of the big Sacremento agricultural valley. Nearly instantly, the rain dries up and it seems amazing and impressively easy to drive now. I burn out a bunch more hours into the night, we zone out to the lush reverb of the Ventures In Space and Telstar albums, great road music to hum and drum on the steering wheel. Rob finishes the night, arriving us at the Motel 6 in Los Banos, CA. It seems an appropriate name for a place that basically features roadside services in the desert hills.

The next day, we drive for about 6 and a half hours to make it down to San Diego. We keep hoping to catch the Purrs on the road, but learn that instead, we somehow passed them and arrived about twenty minutes before they do, despite leaving a whole day later. The Little Pieces head to our San Diego sanctuary, the high-rise apartment of Greg Badger, my accomodating brother. After dinner with him and Jenn his girlfriend, we drive over to the Soda Bar. It's a cool little venue, nice two-room layout with a bar in the middle. It's exciting for me because there are like ten or twelve people already waiting for us when we arrive, some great re-connected friends from Rob and my's Champaign days, and fans from our prior visits. There is quite a good crowd for Tuesday night, and people keep piling in and seem really pumped up.
An local acoustic band opens the night, a girl and guy singing with an upright bass holding rhythm. They were pretty good, some sweet singing. I'm not sure what it means, but they call themselves Buried Under Carrots.
We go on next, and the show goes really well. We're playing 5 new songs that have never been played before, so it was super great having them go smoothly. It's a really  enthusiastic crowd, lots of shouting and whooping. Thanks whoopers! After the show, we got lots of great feedback about the new stuff, which is of course nice to hear from both the music nerds and unruly tipsy.
The Purrs play after us. The room sounds really good for them, and I think both bands make some new fans in SD. It feels like a non-jaded room full of open minds, the best kind of strangers. We and the Purrs sell some cd's and stuff and I'm thinking Little Pieces may have some heat here in San Diego.
The second the bands stop, everyone realizes they all have jobs in the morning and clear out pretty quickly. We retire back to my brother's apartment and hang out for a while on the balcony, looking at the bay and downtown and talking too loud. The travails of our cannonball run down here have been pushed away by the sweet lull of friends, family, rock, and a good night's sleep.