Gather ‘round children as I tell you the story of three brave musicians and their quest to return home from yonder lands in the valley of the Mississippi. (just kidding) So after playing two really awesome shows in Louisiana, eating some really bomb Cajun food, volunteering, and groovin’ with the Rebirth Brass Band we left New Orleans and headed back to Austin. Charlie was driving again and Jordan and I were more or less napping in the back of the bus. The Ho Bus doesn’t have a gas gauge, but we estimated that we had around 150 miles left on the veggie oil tank and a full tank of diesel. Jordan told Charlie that he should switch over to diesel from veggie-oil after 150 miles. We were cruising nicely a little past Lafayette when Charlie exclaimed that the bus was slowing down. I told him to switch to diesel and fast! But, alas, it was too late, again. We had run out of gas, veggie oil this time, and this time even though we had a full tank of diesel we didn’t switch over fast enough to keep the engine running. Let me tell you how ecstatic I was! So Jordan called AAA and we waited by the side of the road, again.
This time it took about an hour and a half, but we were greeted by a familiar face…it was Richie the tow-truck driver from outside of Lafayette that had picked us up a few days earlier. I thought it was pretty fucking-funny to see him again. He just smiled at us and laughed a little at our precarious situation. He probably thought we were nuts for even taking the bus on the road. At the same time this was all happening Charlie had decided he was going to walk to the nearest gas station to wait (why I can’t really say). So after we got the bus hooked up to the back of Richie’s truck we made our way to meet him. I estimate Charlie walked about 3 miles through mosquito infested country, down the highway, over a bridge and into some backwoods neighborhood that even our tow-truck driver thought looked sketchy. Worse than that, the one gas station Charlie could find, which had a restaurant inside the store, closed about one minute before Charlie got there. He even had time to ask a clerk if there was anything near by and she told him “yes, in the next parish there was a restaurant that was open, about three miles down the road.” Charlie looked pretty defeated when we met up with him, and I can imagine his face was priceless when she told him that.
The day was far from over, though. We managed to get the bus started again at the gas station by using the regular-unleaded-soaked-rag method that we had picked up a few days before in New Orleans and got back on the road. Charlie started driving and made the observation that there was low power in the bus, like he could tell the battery was low. We made a quick stop about 40 miles later and I took over driving. It was getting dark by then and I noticed that the lights on the bus were extremely dim. Driving was about to get a whole lot more fun! We made it through Louisiana to Orange, Texas and I started to really notice how little power we had. The blinkers didn’t work, the cabin lights didn’t work, and it was dark as shit in front of me. The bus is a very wide van and just before Beaumont the lanes start getting very narrow. That coupled with the darkness and the extremely poor suspension on the bus, had me weaving in my lane. I had to concentrate on the taillights ahead of me to get any idea of how the lane was curving. I thought we would get pulled over but Jordan was insisting that we try to make it to Houston to my parent’s house for the night. Sure enough I saw the red and blue lights behind me. You have got to imagine this hulking-yellow short school bus flying down the highway in the dark, swerving in the lane to get the true picture of what this cop saw. He thought I was drunk. We are all putting our hands out the bus to indicate we are going to pull over (because duh, the blinkers don’t work!) and he finally takes off his siren. We pull over and I have to get out and talk to this hayseed sheriff from Vidor, Texas (which Charlie later informs me has won the distinction of most racist town in America (high-five!)). So as he explains to me why I can’t be on the road he is constantly spitting sunflower seeds on my feet. I was a tad irritated but after he realized that this was a new development for our bus he instructed us to park in a near-by truck stop and stay there until it was light out so that we could drive and be seen by other drivers. He didn’t give me a ticket either, for which I was thankful.
The night wasn’t over yet. We called AAA again to get a tow from Vidor to my folk’s house in Houston. They told us it would be an hour and it turned out to be two, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The guy got there and refused to tow us. He tried to convince us it was too tall to be towed on his truck, that it would surpass the legal limit of 12’6”. We tried to get this guy to understand that it was not going to be nearly that tall (Jordan can touch the top of the bus without jumping) and we even offered to measure it to prove its height would be fine. This was to no avail, and when Jordan and I were discussing what to do, the motherfucker drove off without a word. At this point I was getting eaten alive by mosquitoes on the bus, as we all were, and dirty as hell from sweating all day. Jordan some how became convinced he could tape light and plastic coverings to the bus and we could get it jump started to get home that night. Charlie and I looked at him like anyone would who heard his plan—like he was a fucking crazy person. We convinced him to call his folks after he brazenly tried to tell us “I don’t even think that it’s illegal [to tape lights to your car].” His parents managed to convince him otherwise (thankfully).
Charlie and I decided to get a room at the motel attached to the truck stop and Jordan decided to sleep in the bus. I just wanted some A/C. This place was classy. Shiiiiiit. The doors didn’t even have door knobs, just a bolted in handle and key for a dead-bolt. The room was spacious, but very dirty and the cable did not work. I was so tired and frustrated though that I fell asleep fairly soon after we got into the room.
The next morning we got the bus jumped and slowly drove back to Austin. We stopped every 120 miles for gas as a precaution and we never turned off the engine so that the battery wouldn’t die again. I think everyone in the band agrees that the bus will not suffice for the next tour and maybe not even for traveling outside of Texas. I was very grateful to be back in Austin. Thank you for reading this extremely long post.
- RYAN
This image came up with the google search "Vidor TX," (granted it's from Hurricane Rita)
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