I awoke to the sounds of Jimmy Russel removing the air box from the engine bay. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and began wrenching, barefoot! Fucking redneck shit man. The next 8-10 hours looked like this photograph. We wrestled the alternator out of the bus, Jimmy skated off to snag a replacement. Well after several hours, the alternator clearly was not going back in, Jimmy and Scully merked back to the auto store to find one that fit. Keep in mind I am simplified several tense hours of sweat, scraped skin and oil stains. Our sound track to this horrifying experience was Homeless John.
John was a local who was described to us at a little paranoid, amongst other things. He got blackout drunk the night before, woke up covered in marker and almost got his ass kicked by a recently released prisoner. His breakfast was Kentucky Gentleman, his brunch was a 40oz of Old English, and his lunch was another bottle of OE. He spouted facts that were false, opinions that were confusing and convictions that were down right terrifying. The worst part was that he would not stop. Nothing was held back, religion, politics, conspiracy and even a little car talk. "Cars suck cause you don't know whats wrong with them, bikes are great because you can look at them and know exactly what is wrong". No that he was wrong but in the 6th hour of rtying put and engine bolt through a alternator bracket his voice became quite fustrating. Instead of beating the shit out of him, which alot of broken down bands might do to relive tension, I put a tape recorder by hi feet and got it on tape. Later that night we got high and laughed our ass off at how ridulous he was. TST 002, coming soon.
Scully stenciled "Killer Rock Box" TST 001 while the other Rowdy Dudes worked on the bus. Needles to say we eventually departed from Awful House, with the alternator properly(kind of) installed, we took off to Tuscon. We made it about two block and the power died. A cop car even got on the mic and told us to "Get that vehicle off the road". We pulled into a parking lot across the street from a service station, filled up on terrible grocery store sandwiches and crashed out in the van. The next day we replaced the alternator with a properly functioning one. We also needed tow new batteries. We lost the El Paso show the previous night, so we were in a real hurry to get to Tuscon. And there we were bracing ourselves for a 15 hour drive.
Desert half pipe, and free hot dogs.
Getting up in El Paso.(Alot of stupid shit happened in El Paso, but I'm not getting into it, wait for Scully's tour journal for all that)
Hitlers Death Car(The Thing, NM)
11 year old thrasher from Tuscon, AZ. I forget his name, but he plays in a band called Retard Riot(not to be confused with the one and only RETARD RIOT artist from New York. This kid skates pools, play drums really well, and was sent to the principals office for listening to CFL's "Party Time".
Retard Riot covering CFL's "Party Time"
Roman's 1967 Ford Mustang. He threw a killer party for us in Pheonix.
The Crew in PHX.
The next post will wrap up the epic conclusion of the Rowdy Ones US tour, or will it? We'll find out in a few days.
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