I figgured on taking a couple months off, taking life a bit easier, just playing music and sailing the Chesapeake's upper reaches when the weather gets warm--not a prayer.

The music jobs have been coming in back to back, lots of doubles, and days off were few and far between. Not much time to work on the boat. Today, Wednesday, was the last music job on the schedule for the week and the next five days were supposed to be open. So far--so good!

Looked out the window last night, the moon was full and at midnight it was so bright outside that you could seen herds of deer grazing on my newly planted grass--not a good omen! By 3:00 a.m. my throat felt like someone had dumped battery acid on my vocal chords, and I was down to a painful whisper. Wonderful!

The morning started out OK with bright sunshine, and despite the fact that I sounded like a bullfrog in heat, things were going well--at least until I got on I-95 and headed south toward Baltimore and today's job. Traffic was horendous, which is normal at 11 in the morning, wall to wall 18 wheelers, and crazies trying their damnedest to weave between them as speeds approaching warp 12. Not my cup of tea. I cruised along at a conservative 65 MPH in the right lane until I was about a half mile north of I-695, which at this point the lane becomes an exit lane for 695. I turned on my signal, moved to the next lane to my left, and continued for another quarter mile when an a**hole in a Nisam Sentra decided he wanted to get in the same lane as me. Without signaling or looking, he rapidly swerved into my lane--right into the side of my van rear quarter, shoving me into a sideways skid for the next 200 feet before I lost control and went into a ditch. His car flipped on it's side and ended up in the same ditch about 50 yards north of my van.

Bottom line--the van is totaled, the equipment survived, with minimal damage, his car looked like it went through a shredder, I obviously didn't make it to the job, and the a**hole had the guts to say "Man, I don't know what happened!"

Fortunately, no other vehicles were involved, and a witness who was a couple hundred yards behind stopped and gave the state police a statement that clearly portrayed who was at fault.

The worst part about the deal wasn't loosing the music job and dissapointing 150 people at a spring dance. The worst part is that because my van is a 1989 the guy who hit me insurance company will only pay book value for the van, which is probably about $2,000. This, despite the fact the van was in excellent condition until some indiot on his cell phone slammed into it. Now I'll have to replace the van, which will cost me a bundle. Damned I hate full moons!

Gary

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Travlin' Easy