Dear world, I've left town, I'm on the lamb, well at least for a few days. Every time I through my belongings in a car and drive off my mind intermediately begins to regain some of it's elasticity. The road is my therapy. As the miles pile up so do the memories. So I have decided to maintain a road blog, a collections of short stories that are portions of a much larger story.

Now you have to understand that my grammar is like a poorly paved Utah road worn thin by the winters salt, it's full of chuck holes. But you see, whenever I write something and share it the masses there a few people that the first thing they look for are mistakes, scholars I suppose. Now I try to appeal to everyone so these mistakes are in here for you. Have fun.

The only time that I remember feeling the need to have a serious with my father was on this very subject. We had both flow into New York for a short two show tour. We acquired a rental car and drove up to Saratoga Springs for a Friday night show at Caffe' Lena's. The next day we loaded the car, said our goodbye's and lit out for Homer, New York. The weather was terrible and the driving was slow going. For the first hour or so the conversation was our typical road banter, you know, old family stories and ways of solving every social abnormality out there. After awhile my father started correcting every thing I said. After about ten minutes I snapped. I pulled the car over to the side of the road, turned off the engine and said "Listen, I know that I may be poorly educated but  that doesn't mean that I'm unintelligent." I was always the kid that brought home the progress report that read something like "Duncan is not  working to his potential"  I would tell my mother that I was fine it was the teachers that weren't working to their potential. Then I told my father "I know you posses a complete command of the English language and how intelligent your are but every time you correct me it proves to opposite." he said "Your right, I don't why I do it, I'm sorry." That was it, I started the car and we drove off. You know what is truly remarkable about this story is that after being separated for the better part of thirty years. The only ting that we had to fight about was my use of grammar. Not bad.