Driving across the country with a reggae band was always an adventure. Imagine 4 smoked up rastas ( plus me ) crusing across the United States… no wives, no girlfriends…. just 10 cities to visit, play music and explore.

… Now you’re getting the picture.

Jamming with Rising Lion was especially fun, because Danny Dread was a cool and funny guy.  I still have contact with him to this day, and he should be releasing a new single very soon.

Here is a clip of Danny in action.

We were cruising through the Arizona desert and were running out of gas. If you’ve ever been in the middle of nowhere on those hot desert highways, you’ll know that you never EVER want to run out of gas.

We pulled into a gas station/restaurant that looked like something from a Stephen King movie.  It was old and creepy. Tumbleweeds bounced down the street and the air was extremely hot and oppressive.

As we jumped out of the van, I knew it was going to be a weird experience. Not only have these people perhaps never seen a black person in their lives, but there is no way in hell they ever saw 5 at once, most of whom had dreadlocks down to their ankles.

We walked into a room full of people who were all eating and talking with each other. But as soon as we entered the building I saw astonishment mixed with fear mixed with hate spread across everyone’s faces.

What was a a loud and busy room immediately grew silent…. the record scratched off the turntable.

I cant explain fully the amount of awkwardness I felt as we walked up to pay for the gas, but those few moments felt like hours. I had no idea what was going to happen, but the fear was certainly there.

We quickly paid for our gas and got the hell out of dodge. You should have seen the dust fly as we screached out of the parking lot.

Although nothing did happen … something could have.

…whew