We left Rocky Mount around 8am or so and got a quick breakfast. By the time we were about 20 miles outside of Richmond we got the call that the Delaware show was canceled. Apparently they’re still in a state of emergency and there was a city ordinance prohibiting public gatherings. So we hit Richmond and turned left toward Cleveland to make the next show. My bass player was supposed to fly up to Philadelphia today and meet us in Wilmington. The last I heard he was trying to switch flights to meet us in Cleveland. If he can’t I’m not entirely sure what the plan will be. There was a moment of decision, really, in Richmond… Amy had called to see if we were still planning to drive to Cleveland and to let us know it was okay if we weren’t. But at this point, with the first show gone, we’d be in the hole on the trip if we went home, whereas if we play it we will at least break even.
Right now we’re passing through Waynesboro, the mountains are covered with snow. It’s a strange combination of beautiful and stressful, because it looks gorgeous but heading down the mountains all I can think about is how big this van is and how she handles like a drunken cow. But she continues to muscle through. Somewhere nearby there is a station called WNRN, a listener supported station that has already played Neil Finn and Michael Penn, along with Cocteau Twins from 1988. Heading up I-65 we passed a snow-covered 18-wheeler laying on its side and a car flipped over in the grassy median. Just now on I-81 (temporarily heading south) we passed a similar car with its roof flattened in. Traffic is backed up about five miles on the northbound lanes while fire truck crews work to get them out.
Later now, dusk in West Virginia. We’re deep in the mountains now; the van is handling the inclines surprisingly well. Down below there are small areas in the valleys, maybe five mobile homes wide. I use that measuring stick because that’s what sits down there, mobile homes and small homes, too small to even call it a town, covered in snow. It looks very desolate; there’ve been about five so far as we trek through the mountains. Finally now a larger valley and what is obviously the mine that created the rest of this area. It’s lit up like a small city, steam rising from the towers, snow draped over the mounds of quarry work.
Dark outside now and I’m laying in the backbench, staring out the window. We’re still passing through the mountains and I can see the dark hills outside. Every now and then I’ll catch a small window of light in a random house on the slope. For some reason there’s a lone Christmas tree on one slope, lit up.
In the hotel now, an hour outside of Cleveland. Lyle arrives at the airport tomorrow at 2pm so it looks like tomorrow’s show is coming together.