Of course this was a mistake and we ended up running out of gas a few minutes later. We coasted into someone’s yard, DG got out and actually convinced the people who lived in the house to give him a lift to the gas station we’d just passed, while we waited in the cold dark van, again. Presently he showed up with a gas can, which we poured into the tank and took off, still making for the next station up the road at top speed.
It was closed. We had no choice but to turn around and speed back to the first station, hoping that it was still open. We coasted in there, on fumes. Filled the tank to its half full (or whatever it took before the leak started) level and took off up the road again.
Another Detour
It’s been more than 40 years, but as late as we were, I think we were still ahead of the actual start time for the dance. In any case DG floored it on up the “highway” (a two-lane regional road), trying to make up some time. So it was that we were going quite fast when we came to the next bit of excitement, in the form of a large puddle that covered the entire roadway for at least a van’s length, immediately followed by a raised railway crossing, which was immediately followed by a fork in the road. Well, we hit the puddle, hydroplaned down its entire length, hit the railway crossing, went a little airborne and came down on the other side with DG yelling “Which fork do I take, left or right?!”
I don’t recall what I answered but whatever it was, it was too late and we ended up going into a skid, spinning around and sliding into the ditch backwards, part way up the right-hand fork. To this day, I’m convinced that the additional weight of the two extra loudspeakers we’d decided to take at the last minute (a pair of Electro-Voice Eliminators) is what kept the van upright in that spin-out.
Fortunately, the ditch was quite shallow and DG was able to drive out without any trouble, then proceeding up the left fork to the gig. We arrived either just at – or shortly after – the start time, with a near riot going on in and around the venue, the local community hall. We quickly loaded in and set up, the crowd settled down (sort of) and the gig was a success.
All’s Well That Ends Well
The ride home was uneventful, and in spite of all of the drama, I continued to use DG as my driver for at least another year, even after I’d gotten my own license. Along the way we did many gigs, took a road trip to Halifax for a weekend and, got stopped by the police many, many times for various issues with the van (but oddly enough, never for driving offences!) and became friends.
Which leads me to our last gig together (at least the last one I remember). We’d played somewhere on the east end of the island and were driving back towards Charlottetown (the capital). It was around 1:30 in the morning and as we approached the Hillsborough Bridge, we could see the lights of a police spot-check up ahead.
By this point it was just me and DG doing the gigs, and as we approached the spot-check, DG started laughing and listing off all of the issues with the van that he’d corrected: Cracked windshield – fixed! Emergency brake – fixed! Leaking gas tank – fixed! Various signal and license plate bulbs – all fixed! No sir, they couldn’t get him for anything, anything at all…
Except that his driver’s license had expired at midnight, that very night, just 90 minutes earlier! Clutching his freshly issued driving-with-an-expired-license ticket, DG slunk over to the shotgun seat, I took the wheel, and drove us home.