July 3 -     It's the middle of the night, and it is still sweltering.   I climb aboard the racy red Momo tour truck, strategically place my pillow as a head rest... and hang on tight. 60 miles per hour in the Momo tour truck feels like at least 90 when you're tired and want to go to bed, as I had wanted to.   It had been a long week of practice and preparation.   Adios, Ohio!   New Jersey or bust!   I could handle either, actually; I just wanted to sleep.

There were lots of bumps in the night, but I managed to get a few hours of rest.   I woke up once in mid-air, an inch off the seat, thanks to one of those bumps.   More productive than any alarm clock.   Sean, who also had been awake for over 24 hours, drove with the steely determination of a programmed robot.   Impressive.

July 4 -

The club is right across the street from a milk factory.   Sean figured this out for us. (He's from Wisconsin.)   We have to wait a while before we can unload our gear. New Jersey must be in a different time zone.   It is so hot that we take turns sitting in the front seat of Jim's air conditioned van.   Finally, the club owners arrive, greetings are exchanged, and we are allowed to enter.

Hey, who put that drum riser in the middle of the stage?