On our 1990 tour with the Sundays, we traveled the USA in a cargo van belonging to Bar/None, and rented to their bands for next to nothing. We numbered five–Georgia, me, upright bassist Wilbo Wright, lead guitarist Kevin Salem and his then-girlfriend Mary Lorson–and had enough room in the back to fit a mattress. The downside (there’s always a downside) was the van had no insulation whatsoever, just the driver’s side and passenger’s side windows, and an air conditioner that was little more than a rumor. I have a vivid memory of arriving in Chicago a day in advance of our July 5 show, at a birthday party for Rick Rizzo, having been reduced to puddles by the summer heat. Fourteen years ago today, we played in San Diego. Facing five or six hours in the van before the next day’s show in Phoenix, we opted to avoid the 100-plus degree sun and drive overnight. We actually had the heat on as we traversed the desert, but that didn’t last long. We got to Phoenix somewhere around 6 a.m., too early to check in to a hotel without avoiding being charged for the night previous (and therefore not in our budget), so went to breakfast where Kevin entertained his punchy tourmates by making the waitress explain every single item on the menu, after which–still needing to kill some time–we drove around in circles in a parking lot. Eventually we made it to bed, and when we woke up some time in the afternoon, Georgia and I went to see The Freshman at a dollar movie theater in an otherwise-abandoned shopping center, shades of Over the Edge–which remains one of the best movie-going experiences of my life.
