The Adventures Of Moby
Tuesday, April 22nd
Just back from an extended weekend’s tour: Charlottesville, VA, Annapolis, MD, and Elkins, WV. Even in this small time away the grass at home has grown thick and tall and the leaves on the walnut trees out back have pronounced themselves for the season.
In Massachusetts last month, my ‘95 Caravan, companion of many miles, gave up the ghost and departed for the bone yard. Upon March’s mud season roads the van’s motor mounts gave out. Driving it was akin to being inside of an unbalanced washing machine during the spin cycle. Together with other pending repairs it was not going to take us home to Asheville. We commenced to find a replacement and discovered a willing 2000 Caravan 26,000 miles young. It is big and white, and we call him “Moby”.
Moby is sleek, and Moby is powerful and Moby has enough room so that as we’re cruising down the interstate, Sue can sit in the front passenger’s seat and play her banjo. So, we’re rolling up the spine of Virginia on 81, and all along from Bristol to Lexington the Dogwoods and Redbud bloom against a spectrum of spring greens. The wind is cool coming through a crack in the window to balance the sun warming the dashboard. I’m listening to the Shortening Bread lesson John Herrmann gave Sue this morning before leaving. The view looks like the music sounds.
North of Roanoke we merged into the left lane, as there was construction up ahead. I found a gap between a semi and a van. As I made gestures for permission to merge I saw that person in the van was none other than songwriter Tom Prasada Rao. Tell me, what are the chances of running into someone you know in all the traffic on that entire stretch of highway! Tom pulled along side us and with our windows down we shouted salutations and surprise. Rolling at about 10mph we exchanged new CD’s through open windows, said goodbyes and continued down the highway. I consider these events little miracles, and auspicious omens for a good weekend.
Tours like this are a slow motion blur, filled with things that are temporary, yet ever renewing like the scene out the window of a moving car: the diner supper that night, the descent on dark switchback turns over the Blue Ridge Mountains to our lodgings, startled awake by a freight train screeching by my window at 2am, the alarm going off at 7am for a 9am radio interview on WNRN. Friday morning, host Anne Williams, inspired by my “What Would Woody Do”, song brought out a Bruce Robison song called “What Would Willie (Nelson) Do” which I’ve long wanted to hear, and played it on the air.
The motion continues. Several hours later having negotiated DC traffic, Sue and I walked around peaceable and historic colonial Annapolis. In a little Celtic-type tourist shop we bought Moby’s only decoration: a Scottish flag front license plate (now Moby’s bona-fide!). That night we played at Max Ochs’ 333 Coffeehouse, which is a veritable folk festival filled with two feature acts, cameo singers, poets, and Max himself. Later still I marvel at Max’s guest room, which is filled with folk memorabilia of his time mentoring with such blues greats as Mississippi John Hurt, Son House and others.
Saturday morning under rainy skies we drove west back through DC and Virginia. By the time we climbed and crossed into West Virginia the skies broke out in sun. To enter West Virginia from any road but the interstate is an act of commitment. One’s whole attitude must change with driving slower, constantly shifting gears, braking and turning, climbing and descending the mountains. I’ve heard tell that if you flattened out West Virginia it’s size would rival Texas! The scene along route 33 looked positively Scottish with long bare valleys, livestock, barns, rocks and mountains around. Before arriving in Elkins we pulled Moby over into a quiet turnout and played a few tunes of West Virginia origin to acknowledge our arrival.
It was the Saturday before Easter and out of doors was idyllic springtime. The Three Forks Café where we had supper was superb, and the Randolph County Arts Center was a dream. My favorite part of Elkins was playing songs and fiddle tunes with our host Doug VanGundy, his wife Melissa, Connie Townsend and Dave Parker (who as I’m editing this just found out have won First Place in this year’s Merle Fest Songwriting contest!). Doug is a treasure trove of West Virginia music, and we were up until 3am trading fiddle tunes and songs.
Moby proved his mettle that weekend on the mountain switchbacks and interstates, so I think we’ll keep him. He’s not much to look at, just an oversized vanilla jellybean of a soccer mom’s minivan, but if Moby gets us to the gig on time, I’m happy.
Next week we’re taking Moby on a little trip up to Wisconsin, Minnesota and Indiana. I’m sure we’ll see a few things along the way. We’ll let you know. Meanwhile, keep in touch. Say hello in the guestbook, and check out the touring schedule.
Kindly,
Dana