We finished a show in Fairfax, VA and were driving up to New York. Everyone in the area thought it would be fun on this particular day to get on the freeway and drive 35mph. The freeways move along at this speed until we got through Delaware--possibly the only time in my life I was happy to be in Jersey. We started picking up speed, but the following van wasn't able to maneuver through the traffic to keep up. Just as we in the lead van were wondering how they were faring, we hear this message on the radio, "<shhhhh>van<shhhhh>wrong<shhhh>." Silence. Attempts to hail them on radio met with failure. A moment later, my cell phone rang with Romeo's signature ring "Yeehaw, lookie here! A phone call for me! (boing!)." He reported that the van suffered a blow out and there was coolant pouring out. Not bothering to wonder why they filled their tires with coolant, we took the next exit--9 miles up the road, thank you very much, Jersey Turnpike--and doubled back to join up with them. After an hour or so, the tow truck arrived to bring the van in. The driver studied the damage and diagnosed that when the tire blew, it severed the line to the reserve heater (whatever that may be). Eleven of us packed into our van than only just fit that many with all our luggage in the back seat and puttered into the city a mere 6 hours later than planned.

I have other stories, but this is getting long. I will write more later. To all those of you who are not the road--don't you wish you were?