I Hate Me, Part 76,923
I was on tour with my own band, it was a two week van tour and our last show was in West Virginia (I forget what town). It was a shit show at a shit sports bar who didn’t know we were booked to play there and we were grudgingly paid in drinks. We needed to get home as the van we rented was due back the next day. Jim was the first to drive, now Jim’s a drivin’ motherfucker, it’s one of his superpowers. I was riding shotgun and was next up to drive. I had prided myself as being no slouch in the driving department. Back when Monster Magnet was doing U.S. tours with an equipment truck, I drove quite a bit. The operative phrase there is “back when” because it had been a good ten years since I drove far distances on no sleep with any regularity. So Jim drove and drove and drove, I was fighting to stay awake and my joints felt like they were filled with sand. It was light out when we got to Wilmington Delaware and Jim was ready to stop driving. By this time I was completely shot; hung over, dead tired and not worth much but I grabbed a cup of coffee and started to drive. I was awful and I made it to the next rest stop (about a half hour away from where I started) where I went to get another cup of coffee. When I got back to the van I saw that Neil was behind the wheel, there was no discussion or argument, I just crawled in the back and zoned out.