Car Trouble

My brother drove out from Chicago last week when we thought our Granma was dying-(a false alarm, thank Godzilla) and his car broke shortly before he was to return home. Good thing it broke here and not in Ohio or the West Virginia mountains on the way home- all that Deliverance banjo-pluckin' pig-squealin' stuff is true- only a million times worse.
Not really.

One night many years ago I was playing guitar in a band called Glass- in hindsight, they were 'emo', but with my pal Mike on drums and myself on lead guitar we had a real hard punk/psychedelic edge- we had just played an outdoor weekend party and the drunken rednecks had loved us, it was our only good show, come to think of it...the singer and bass player were planning on kicking us out because we ( mostly me) were too "unorthodox" for the sound they wanted. They weren't gay or Goth, but they wanted to people to think they were, wanted to be in that scene...puzzling,really, how they'd be unhappy because an audience was lovin' their music.
Fuckin' elitist snobbery, is what that is.

The crowd at the final mountain show- hundreds of folks from all over the state- really liked us. A lot of good local bands played at those parties since there really weren't any clubs out there and the audiences were sharper than you'd expect. They really liked the weird heavy shimmer sound we had. Lots of bikers and longhairs, no fights, no cops, lotsa dope- fun! All the bands were well received, always a big plus ! Playing for cheering masses...that is rare and awesome.

Funny thing- the crowd's going yahoo apeshit crazy and meanwhile the singer's mentally rehearsing the "you are fired" speech that he's going to give us afterwards.
He was actually pissed that the crowd liked us- we had 'ruined' his vision of the band -we rocked!- and it didn't matter that people really enjoyed it. People like that shouldn't like it,was his opinion.
It wasn't pure enough - we had soiled it.

On the way home, their car broke down on a lonely-ass mountain road. I was with the singer, his GF and the bass player- Mike the drummer had gone ahead with others.
Lucky drummer.
It was close to midnight and this was before cell-phone days...we took turns fucking about with the motor- no go.
After a while , a couple drunk rednecks show up and ask if they can help.
Seems the transmission is shot...maybe....perhaps I could call a tow from the store ahead? They were headed that way before it closed- someone need a ride to a payphone?
I look at my bandmates , who are still wearing mascara and black lipstick from the show ( no makeup for me)
and decided that they would be bad choices to venture into Hillbilly Hollow. The girl was not an option, obviously.
Sure, I'll go.

It'll give me a chance to get away from you guys and smoke a joint...

Redneck #2 volunteers to stay behind. This scares the girlfriend- of our intrepid group , I was the oldest and by far the most worldy-these Art School kids were terrified, but my 'Spidey Sense' never flickered - the kids were even scared shitless of the bikers at the party despite the fact that the biker audience was rockin'- now they are afraid of Pickup Truck Guys who are being as nice as can be...strange, sheltered pre-emo kids.
Just tell them you are in the band and they will be nice to you, I told the kids. Maybe they took ecstasy or something-they hid in the trailer a lot before the show...I mingled.
(I liked the bikers- they had the best drugs)

anyway...

I ride with one guy to the store- he points out an abandoned house- that's where Patsy Cline was born, ya know? We smoke my joint and he tells us we can stay at his house if we can't get the thing running. There aren't any motels and the garage won't be open on Sunday-but he can probably fix it in the morning anyway.
Nice guy, really.
We get some beer and I call- no towing available until morning. OK, I guess we'll take ya up on that offer, much obliged.

On the way back , Truck Guy asks," you know why my buddy stayed with your friends, dontcha?"
"No, I don't" . I'm a bit alarmed.

"Well, you seem normal, but those guys might get in trouble, 'specially if the Sheriff came, so Rudy (whatever) stayed by jus' in case"

"Why?"

" 'Cos they're faggots."

He says this plain-as-day, like I should know what he's talking about, like it's taken for granted that they would be in danger.
Oh yeah- the guys in the band wear berets and mascara, not often seen in Appalachia-especially that long ago.

He thinks the girl is my GF..hahaha, I laugh- nah man, it's just this band thing like Alice Cooper or Kiss- he seems relieved at hearing this. Maybe in the morning we could play a song for his wife- she likes Alice Cooper, he tells me.

anyway..

We get back to the car and a couple guys from the party have already stopped and are fixing it enough to get it home. One of them says "awesome show, man" to me, over and over. We drink beers while the mechanic guys do magic redneck motor tricks.

All the way home I listen to the kids whine about the "dirtball hillbilies" and how one of them got grease on the dashboard and how the other one smelled so bad...totally ignoring the fact that these same guys had just saved our collective ass and had even invited us into their home if needed.
Shit, I was kinda lookin' forward to getting wasted all night- instead, when we got back to town I was told that I wasn't in the band anymore and dropped off at my home, guitar in hand.

That band never played again.