It seems hard to choose a category to submit this to, given the titles available to have this story posted in, but I suppose Near Catastrophes is most suitable. I could come to this site every day, and have a completely new story to post, every one of them different, every one of them a most cherished memory, both good times and bad.

It was the year 2000, and myself and my best friend Mike, who introduced me to Phish 3 years earlier, were out on our weekend road trip to Albany for a 2 night run at the Pepsi Arena. We had been there for a 2 show run the year before, and just like the year before...when we go to shows...we don't live large. We, as yet, have never found a need for a lavish hotel, hot showers, 4-star dining... in fact, almost all of the luxuries available to us on any given day, the comforts of home...we strive to leave. 

Maybe it's youthful rebellion, maybe it's coming of age, perhaps a rite of passage even. But our goal is to go with no plan, and see how it works out, take it in stride, and just live life for the moment, as the moments happen. Daily life tends to be so bound by the shackles of clocks and punch cards and all of the traditions and rules of society....sometimes....just intentionally leave it all behind you... it's a good thing!

Anyhow, so we pull into the humble abode that we had found the year before, the Crowne Plaza Hotel...parking garage that is! I had a nice big 4 door Buick, nothing new, but it had never let me down, and was quite cozy for 2 people for three days. It's right up the hill from Pearl St. where the venue is located, across the street from an ATM, and local fast food eateries all within a 5 minute walk... how can one go wrong. I highly recommend a stay at the Crowne Plaza Hotel...parking garage.

Both nights were absolute ragers! First night had a very ambient, funky, slime gecko-infested atmosphere, with the Bathtub Gin reaching the pinnacle of sonic abstraction that leads one's mind to wander, and to wonder, and to stretch and bend and zip back to the moment like an elastic band flying at your face.

Second night...yeah, you know we got hosed! Michael Ray on trumpet, sand could never be so sweet, something so gritty, yet oh so smooth. Dear lord, I swear I might have creamed my pants, died and went to heaven.....and it sounded like a trumpet playing, 4 musical geniuses, and a man by the name of one Mr. Minor.

But, alas, like all great things that you hate to see go, Phish runs a tight schedule... new people needed to meet, get grimy, make friends, rock the hell out, and leave an audience feeling blissfully violated.

And this is when the catastrophe begins. We (Mike and myself) make our way back to my beloved Buick (no, it hadn't been towed...no Contact allusions here...), and it was a nice warm night, so we decided to move the car away from the top level light post, over to a nice dark corner, and we decided to just lay the blanket out on the tar flat roof of the parking garage lot, and sleep. 

Granted sleep didn't come until about 4:30-5:00 am, but at around 7:30, I was woken up by the rain, torrentially pouring down on my 3 day unshaven, unshowered face. Groggily, I nudge at Mike, and said "Let's pack it all in the trunk, and go back to sleep." So, that's just what we did, until 9 am, when the gargantuan church bell across the street began ringing. Sunday mass! everybody in their Sunday best.........us in our car, looking our horribly worst. So, time to wake up, it had stopped raining by this point, and proving to be a nice, hot, dry day. Early September....definitely still feeling like summer.

After dunkin donuts coffee and a bagel, it's time to make our way home. A 3 hour drive back to southeaster Massachusetts. As we packed up and readied for the drive home, some guy, mid-twenties, came over and asked if we had jumper cables. The battery in his van had died. No problem, I'm always equipped for the unexpected emergency, or able to figure out a clever alternative. I pull my car over to his van, hook up the cables, and it took a while to charge his battery up.... must have been really drained. So, making small talk with the guy and his girlfriend, I smell gasoline.

I look down at my feet, and a small river of gas is running past me.....from underneath the side of my car. Ruptured fuel line. <dun dun dun dunnnnn...>. This........is not something I am prepared for. I only had, at the time, 50 dollars to my entire existence. Mike had depleted his funds save for 17 dollars in his wallet. It is Sunday, no service stations are open. I do not have AAA, and we both have to work the following day.

I did the only thing one could do in this situation (no, i didn't curl up in the fetal position and cry). I pulled a classic Thelma and Louise.....I said "Screw it, let's just go for it. Push this baby and see how far we get. We either make it, we don't make it, or we die trying." And that's just what we did.

Pulling out of the parking garage, much to my amazement, no booth teller....sweet! Score....$20 dollars in parking saved.....move to gas and toll fund. I had half a tank. It only took me half a tank to get to albany.

Within 20 minutes....i was below a quarter of a tank. So, fill'er up numero uno. 20 dollars down, 47 to go.

Made it to the Mass pike, the first Mobil station after leaving New York. Filler up number deuce. 27 dollars left. Toll, subtract 3 dollars.

24 bucks. 2 Hours to go. Dear lord have mercy on our souls.

Mass pike, I closely watched my gas guage. I could actually see the line of gasoline on the highway....and i was doing 70. You could light a path from albany to my front doorstep. I am a driving time bomb. I am a threat to myself, my friend, and the entire highway around me. Please let me make it home unscathed. 1 stray breeze...gas spray gets on hot exhaust pipe. KABOOM...the new GM Buick LeSabre ground-based missile system.

Then, the engine light comes on.....must have lost the alternator. and it only gets better...

5 minutes after the engine light came on, i lost my power steering. and still, im pissin fuel like a race horse with a bad bladder.

So, now i'm worried. smokin butts like a chimney, chewing my fingernails, and i don't even have the radio on for consolation anymore.....it's silent. both of us, just in this car dying a slow death, but not quite stopping just yet.

And wouldn't you know it.....that self same Brown van I gave a jump start to, en-route to Worcester....we passed right by him on the mass pike about 15 minutes before the Rt 495 junction. We waved, hooted, hollered and flailed our arms out the window "Woo hoo! were still goin! we're gonna make it!" And he woke his girlfriend up, pointed us out "Check it out.....they're still goin!" So, they both stuck their arms out the window with a clenched fist raised as if to say, "Go Man, Go!!!!" And go we did.......right down 495 to a Mobil station in Milford...

was I still leaking gas? yep. was my engine light on still? you betcha. do you think i shut my engine off to get gas?

HELLLLLLLLLS NO!!

The attendant comes over and goes, in his heaviest Boston suburbanite accent, "Damn brah, that's a prahblem."  I said, "yeah, i know, and my engine light is on, so i'm not shutting the car off. sorry for the mess....but fill it up. we gotta keep going for another hour before we get home."

So, he filled it. I paid him my last 20. We kept going. I did not pass go, i did not collect 200 dollars, i went directly to my mechanic's parking lot. I left the car and walked 3 miles home from there. So, we made it home.....it wasn't easy, it took 3 tanks of gas, and i was skeptical about the future of my beloved mobile.

The following day, I had my mechanic look at it. final prognosis......ruptured fuel line, a blown belt, which runs ALL of the pulleys on the engine... so i killed the alternator and battery, power steering pump shot.....

about 1500 dollars in work to be done. no money to my name. Buick, rest in peace, for I could not save ye.

But dammit all if that hasn't been one of the moments in my life when i've felt most alive. On the edge of complete disaster without a plan, without means, with the slimmest chance in the world of success.............and I just IMPROVISED. I just got up on my own stage and went for it.....and it F*ckin rocked (and sucked.....depending on the perspective).

That was the last Phish show I got to see. Since then, well........hiatus came. Live shows are few and far between. Trey tour is coming up, I have tickets..............but in the back of my mind is that burning question, that fear that I acquired in albany of 2000........will my little Ford Escort Hatchback be able to withstand the ravages of a good concert?

I guess my car and I will just have to find out come august fourth at the Tweeter Center in Mansfield Mass, now won't we? :)

-Chris