Who has the van keys?

The second annual Summertime Thing over the weekend was a storm of Old Weird American Fun. For starters, the Rio Nido Roadhouse is a five star hang. Patio furniture included. And the weather was California Dreaming all the way. Plus all the bands brought it.

Dateline: Guerneville, California. 11:30 PM.

It’s been a long day. Stephie is back at the Airbnb, and I’m still wandering around in a daze, with equipment to put in the van, a pinball game inside my head, both flippers fast and furious...

The parking lot is emptying out. Darkness reigns. People who lingered huddle in circles nursing that last beer before stumbling off to their lodging in the woods. A few stragglers are settling up their tabs at the bar. Others ease out of the parking lot down River Road to Highway 101.

And as I’m standing there looking around it occurs to me: Oh snap, am I going to be “The Last Fool at the Bar”? (All hail Mike Stinson!) I hate to be that guy. Besides, my drinking days are long down the road in my rearview mirror.

But I can’t split. Why? Well, let’s just say that a "leave no gear behind" ethos has been hammered into me, and hammered hard. Someone always draws the short straw, and tonight it’s me. There are still a couple amps, guitars, and pedal boards, along with random gear stacked up on the side of the stage. And they’re not going to find their way into the van by themselves.

Also, I’m wondering, who has the van keys?

That’s when I spot my white Ford Econoline in the back parking lot and decide to start humping gear in that direction. I plop a couple amps down behind the van and am fixing to head back and hump another load. Hopefully, someone in my group will come along with the keys and, Bass Player or not, we’ll load the van like we’ve done a thousand times before. (Hot tip: There is a right way and a wrong way to pack the van. When in doubt consult Bass Player.)

Meanwhile, as I walk around the van toward the driver’s side, I see the front door is wide open. Passing strange. I approach closer and look in. Cigarette smoke wafts out of the cabin and in the dark a red hot ember—a cherry from a cigarette glowing. That’s all I can see.

And then a low disembodied unmistakable voice says, “How ya doin’, Chuck.”

And before I can think, I respond with an, “Okay, I guess.”

And now it’s all beginning to make a little more sense, but I’m still thinking: What is Dave Alvin doing sitting in our van? (Stephanie’s not gonna like that smoking thing either, I can tell you that. )

It turns out Dave is sitting in HIS van, the same exact model Ford Econoline as I have. A white 15 passenger. (All tough guys drive white 15 passenger Ford Econolines.)

Well, after I calmed down a little, I enjoyed a nice chat with Dave. We talked shop. The big C. The little c. And all the Cs in between. His group The Third Mind was great tonight. And really sweet people. I encourage everybody to get out and see them if they come to your town. When they play, it’s 1968 all over again and more. And aside from the Quicksilver / Cipollina aesthetic (which I love), with Jesse Sykes on lead vocals, I was picking up a real Fairport Convention vibe too. Very cool. My friends know how nerdy I can be for all things Richard Thompson. Old friend Victor Krummenacher on bass as well. And all the musicians were geeking out hard over Michael Jerome on drums, who I had played with at the Bob Neuwirth memorial. Oh and aside from Dave, there was the wicked cool Mark Karan on guitar too. Between them they had all the modalities working.

* * *

I’d love to tell you that Stephie and I are in the midst of a two day staycation, complete with a Giants game and some laying around watching cooking shows… no such luck.

There’s always more. More gigs coming up around the bend (next week!). Plus I gotta feed the newsletter monster.

See the website for all the Cumbia Shoes summer dates. Chuck and Stephie duo gigs and the like. And make no mistake, there are worse groups (let me count the numbers and the ways) of people to be sandwiched in a van together with than The Mission Express or the Cumbia Shoes – superheroes one and all. There are days when it’s hard to find anything to be unhappy about.

Tomorrow I’ll circle back to Summertime Thing with a play-by-play. So stay tuned.

Onwards!

-CP