Evidence to be used against us:

When I first bought the bus I think it was Monica who said, “It’s been done.” Well obviously Merry Pranksters and all that. If there is nothing new under the sun, this old trope sure seemed like fun. But for the last three years poor bus has languished. When the bus called the other night and told me she was thinking about ending it all I said, “Don’t worry sister, I’m on my way.”

If you were going to resuresct a bus, you’d go in the middle of summer when the weather was warm and the sun high. Not me! I wait until we’re in a thirty-day cycle of mist and chill that makes London look balmy. Well, last year I tried this in the middle of winter so I suppose we’re improving. We tried to keep warm last winter with a bottle of whisky (preceded by a bottle of wine and followed by Margaritas) and my-oh-my did that get ugly. It ended with us reeking of spilt gasoline at a party where Bob disrobed during a stunning performance of Sympathy for The Groundhog, lyrics arranged by Sparky & T.J. – music arranged by the Rolling Stones (I played the tambourine).

The universe split open for that wild ride – we are actually trying to avoid that this time, aiming for a more sensible cataclysm: a manageable bonfire of the vanities. We can still crack the canister. We just don’t need to spill it all over the floor. Although it is T.J.’s fiftieth birthday party so let the buyer beware. Sparky (Janet actually) met T.J. in Hawaii where he was a professional Frisbee player. She has learned quite a few freestyle moves herself and has taken a new name, the name of Sparky the leprechaun. We are going to hear her girl band at the Dukum this very night.

To Do:

Tools – power and otherwise – to Van – the vanguard of vans
Steal battery from blue Chev for Frankenstein transplant to blue bus
Pay electric bill at Schnucks
Bring checkbook to pay car insurance while in ville
Into work early for Co-op delivery from Iowa
Find gloves for working on bus in shit weather
Camera to record nonsense
Spare set of spark plugs in hall closet

Brad has signed on to this little adventure so we are into full on road trip.

Brad, “I wouldn’t have to drive?”

Karl, “No, but you would have to passenge’.”

Brad, “Well, I can passenge’. You know the last time I was in Kirksville? That party where we burned your couch. What was that, like four years ago?”

Our friends Doug and Jeff, now separated, used to have this house out in the boonies where we would do bonfires. Onto one of these bonfires we hefted a polyester non-flame retarded death trap. The flames shot more than fifteen feet into the air and in the morning there was naught but glowing springs hidden in among the ash. Years after we all moved away that house actually burned down. I’ve often mused that perhaps the fire gods had come calling, seeking their annual offering and laying rightful claim to the domicile, creativity shaking hands with destruction.