I Don’t Know Why I’m Suddenly Thinking About This (travel I Suppose) But To Get To Fort Collins,

I don’t know why I’m suddenly thinking about this (travel I suppose) but to get to Fort Collins, Colorado from Saint Paul, Minnesota it is advantageous to pass through Omaha, Nebraska. Me, my spouse 4 bandmates, and a roadie traveled in a rental van towards that city with all of our equipment and amps. To get to Omaha, you’re probably going to drive through Council Bluffs, Iowa. I will NEVER forget Council Bluffs, Iowa.

We get out of the car at the liquor store and gas station to get gas, smoke, piss, what have you. And you’re probably thinking “Baron, a lot of gas stations have a small liquor store in rural places” and you’re right. This was a big liquor store that had a small gas station attached to it and above it on a tall post that said “Mall of the Bluffs” which included a Hyvee grocery store up a small hill from there, and an apartment building with NO INTERIOR OR EXTERIOR LIGHTS ON, that had a big advertising sign in front of it that said “FREE RENT INQUIRE INSIDE”

At the pump was a young couple in a sports car, looking nervous as they finish filling up their tank and drive away and from behind the pump just out of view approaches a man I have etched into my memory forever. He murders tractors you see. High as a kite on some stimulant at this very late witching hour. His truck is a beater like every blue and white beater pickup truck you can immediately imagine. He is about 5’10” maybe 250 lbs. he is wearing boots and overalls and nothing else save for 6 plastic barrettes in his hair. The same one that little girls often wear that have the little embossed daisies on them. Facially, he’s Kevin Smith with a ponytail. He starts telling us about all of the tractors he’s torn apart and hauled away with his pickup truck. He starts asking us to guess how much weight the bed of his pickup can carry in broken tractor units. So we say “250 pounds?” Heartily and assuredly he responds “NOPE!” “350 pounds?” “NOPE!” “450 pounds?” “NOPE!”

550 pounds, it was 550 pounds.

We eventually pawn this guy off to the next person burning the midnight oil and carefully leave. My guitar player asked about why the guy had so many barrettes and our drummer, the wisest amongst us said “one for every tractor he’s murdered”

I’ve met some incredible people, rock stars, comic book authors, poets, animators, game developers.

I think about dead tractor guy more than any of them.