Electric Dreams

Welcome friends,

I’ve kind of been in escrow lately. Not quite ready to close in on a new LP. But pretty much with most of our touring obligations behind us. Been doing some off-the-beaten-path gigs in the gap.

Including a private solo gig in Reno. I decided to rent a car. (Driving the Econoline seemed kind of excessive.) My manager rented me a car from a place down in Union Square.

Man, it was bustling down there at the Avis counter. (I always look around for my mom when I go to Avis—that’s her first name!) The line snaking around with tourists on a Saturday. People leaning over the counter with needs. 

When they eventually got to me and put me in a Chevy EV I didn’t say a word. I don’t remember requesting an electric car, but whatever. There were no instructions. No nothing. Nobody around. Just a parking space with a number. I climbed in.

Pulling out onto O'Farrell, I immediately dug it. It was quiet. With a great factory sound system that magically connected to my iPhone without my asking or fiddling. I was rocking a Trip In The Country playlist in no time. It felt good. It felt right. (I got this!) As I headed north on I-80, I swear the trees along the way were getting greener.

I was meditative. I was rapt. It was an eerily silent ride. (The kind of silence I tend to want to fill up with my own voice, overloud, mansplaining something to a wall.) Until somewhere around Grass Valley when a light went on to tell me I was running low on juice. Damn, right there in the heart of Gold Country. I sobered up fast. (From my Quietude Buzz.)

There was a charging station on some school campus or another, and my manager guided me to it over the phone. But when I got there, it turned out to be the wrong kind of station. 

Then I made my way to a Target. There were some chargers in the parking lot. I was challenged. There was the dreaded app to hassle with. And passwords… and my dumb ass inability to deal. Ughhh!!!

When I finally got the car talking to the charger. The screen on the station said the power in the Chevy would be topped off by 8:00 AM. 

Wait, what? AM?! I’ve got a gig in Reno. Tonight. 

Anyway, I got there. Eventually. Had a great show. Road tested some new songs. After the gig, my pal Steve Burrows from the legendary Reno punk band The Yobs, along with his brothers, helped me out by following me to a charging station. 

The first place the app guided us to was a gated community. And the charger was BEHIND THE GATE. I guess those chargers are reserved for nobles. Not some commoner like me.

So we left the Chevy overnight charging in the parking lot of an In-N-Out Burger. And went and got some waffles at the coolest diner in Reno: The Gold N’ Silver Inn. I perked up. I felt like I was in a Willy Vlautin song.

Fixing to get a waffle at the Gold N’ Silver Inn. A little bleary.

My waffle ruled. 

And the electric car? Ultimately, it wasn’t bad! I’d like to get an electric car. But we’re apartment dwellers and… where would we charge it? So, there is that. Maybe a hybrid is in our future. [insert Elon rant here].

I know I’m late to the party as usual. Who knows when we’ll get there. Hell, we still have a landline. And I don’t know why. What can I say? I gave Glen Campbell my number all those years ago and I’m still waiting for him to call. (Editor: Glen Campbell  errrr….)

On to the next disaster,   

   -CP