The Timely Death of Vita, the Veggie Van. - Gabrielle Louise Show

The weekend commenced with a clamour of symbols and a train wreck of a show at The Salida

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The Timely Death of Vita, the Veggie Van. - Gabrielle Louise Show

Cafe. Now, I've played this listening room about every six months since I was 12. It's myhometown gig, and it happens to be a good one, so it's been a more consistent presence in mylife than most family members, band mates, or love affairs. I twitch as I type the name, SalidaCafe ,because I still can't quite quit calling it Bongo Billy's, what it was originally christened. Therehave been so many evenings that I've chatted comfortably with the owner, Clark, by the registerwhile he tallies up the proceeds. But this time, well, we hadn't been able to rehearse all thatmuch before the show. David had been down South playing stompin' blues and roots music fortwo weeks, and I had to teach all the new stuff to Carl minus David. It was a Thursday night andthe room was about half as full as it usually is. As Clark counted up the cash, I thought abouthow much I was looking forward to hitting the sack.

We loaded up the van and pulled out of the parking lot, successfully waking up anyearly-to-beders in the neighborhood with the loud knock of Vita's diesel engine. Back in Minturnwhere we'd stopped for lunch there'd been a nay-sayer walking by with a cane and ZZ-Topbeard, "I hope you're not going over the pass in that thing! Sounds bad, little lady." I'm not reallythe type of girl that likes to be called "little lady," so I told him "mind your own business!" Ok...maybe I only said that with my eyes. Two blocks away from the Salida cafe the tick-tockknock slowed to a full stop, and Vita made it damn clear she wasn't inteding on starting again.We pushed her to the side of the main strip, right smack in front of the local bar, The VictorianTavern, or, The Vic.

I sat behind the steering wheel, staring, for about five minutes. David and Carl grew increasinglycurious and uncomfortable. "Nope, sorry mate, you're not dreaming, this is your life," I said tomyself. "Deep breath,"and opened the van door. We proceeded to unload all the speakers, stands and instrumentsfrom the back, the strewn clothing, coats, bags, books, loose change, motor oil containers, andoddly shaped tools until I found the vice grips and the spare fuel pump.

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The Timely Death of Vita, the Veggie Van. - Gabrielle Louise Show

Ok, so it's time to confess. Vita's needed a new fuel pump about every two months for, well,her whole life. The WVO has to be wicked hot to flow easily through the fuel system, 180degrees to be exact, and it's so hot that it melts the plastic components in the pump. I could justbuy a new pump that has metal components (now wouldn't that be brilliant!) but instead I'vepersonally exchanged the stock fuel pump in every damn NAPA in the country. Twice.So I get to work fixing it, wishing to god that Chris were there to help. David and Carl aremaking me laugh at least, chalk full of that's-what-she-said jokes and having a smoke. But I stillfeel the tolerance timer ticking down, and as I hurriedly clamor with the tools like a drunk dentistin stage clothes, a coyboy squints into the street light and recognizes the nerdy girl from Englishclass. "Gabby?!?" "Well, here we are, at the height of our careers," David says. For the hundredth time.That night I soaked in the hot tub and stared up at the stars. I had a headache from breathingthe diesel fumes that I couldn't kick. I couldn't sleep. Half my brain was on repeat with a newsong lyric, and the other half was bleeding air out of the fuel lines sans a flashlight. Either way, itwasn't tired, and it sure hurt bad. Clark had eventually ridden by on his bicycle, circa one a.m.,and convinced me to give it up and try again in the morning. (But not after we try one morething! Just...one...more...thing. And not after one more drunk cowboy offered to help whileteetering on his feet and crashing into the curb, smelling like whisky.) Oye, Vay.Chris, our beloved road manager, and Mandy, good friend and jazz singer who was lending herlovely voice to the next two gigs, arrived the next morning donning more tools and energy, andwithin a couple hours we were hitting the road again. "Chris could change the color of the moonif he wanted to." And that's what myroommate Art has to say about that.

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The Timely Death of Vita, the Veggie Van. - Gabrielle Louise Show

The gig in Montrose came and went, the post-show festivities came and went, again with littlesleep and plenty of raunchy humor. Standing on our host's porch at two a.m., staring at miles ofpastures and city lights, a cow-gasm interrupted David and I's philosophical conversation about truth. Yes. a cow-gasm. I have to confess I've never really thought about whether or notthose truthfully exist, but as it turns out--they do. A downright paganism cellebration of decadence and abundance is what came the nextday. Paonia, Colorado, home to many of the orchards and vineyards in the state, is aflash-back-to-the-60s with its music festival called "Mountain Harvest Festival." We'd beenhired to play a set for the third year in a row, so I knew exactly what kind of ridiculous joy was about to descend upon us. The set went great, Paonia graciously gave us a standing ovation,and Carl wore a red boa while banging the drums like a toe-headed heathen. He had us allsinking into each downbeat like mud, trudging solidly and somehow, spiritedly all at once.David wore his usual stoic stage face and made a series of dry quips that had the audiencechuckling between songs. The string of notes that he pulled from his guitar were so colorful andbuoyant that I felt every song to be new. I love that. Mandy sang spot on harmonies despite asevere hearing loss she suffered at 19. Not to mention she looked stunning in the red dressshe was wearing, and performed the most expressive version of sign language lyrics that I'veever born witness to. I left the stage very very proud of my friends. Have you ever heard traditional Indian music? I hadn't. After our set we wandered into thevenue next door where a woman named Beth Quist sang in a three octave, micro-tonal rangeon a stage outfitted with tie-dyed, trippy tapestry while playing the piano and the guitar AT THESAME TIME. I felt like I was in Berklee, CA, 1965. I didn't know if we'd make it home the next day or not,(Vita was still coughing like she hadn't kicked the cold yet) but I was so happy in that moment that I popped a fuse in my head.

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The Timely Death of Vita, the Veggie Van. - Gabrielle Louise Show

We loaded up at 8 am and she drove pretty smooth until we hit McClure Pass. Round the topthe transmission started having trouble and we pulled over to absorb the view of patchwork-quiltfall aspens on the mountainside. I climbed up on the roof to take photos and Chris looked up atme in his trucker hat, us both figuring that whatever was about to happen was gonna happenanyway. No controlling it now. We coasted down to 1-70 and then hobbled up yet another passat about 15 miles an hour, engine smoking, hogging the breakdown lane.We're headed now to put her to sleep.  I don't know how we made it home safely after 6 crosscontinental tours and a lovely little jaunt up to Alaska.  But we did, and good old Vita has run hercourse. Besides, we've got a new pup now, "De Jefes," Mexican slang that we were taught tomean "For the Bosses!" De Jefes is a 40 foot Silver Eagle tour bus that we're remodeling tocomfortably carpool with 4 other acts. Collectively, we're becoming what we'll call, "The MusicMarket," a touring music festival of great musical diversity and full of social consciousness.We're keeping the WVO method of fueling and will be hitting up 6 markets in the new year: SaltLake City, Seattle, Portland, San Fran, Albuquerque and Denver. I'll be posting photos of the progress as we go (The first thing that needs to change is the paintjob--right now you feel like singing the national anthem when you go for a spin.) We bought thebus stripped and have many an hour to put in before it's the dream ride we imagine it to be. ButYOU thought I'd give up after Vita's tranny gave out, didn't you? Hell no! Must...try...one...more...thing.

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The Timely Death of Vita, the Veggie Van. - Gabrielle Louise Show

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