Stranded at a West Texas truckstop in the middle of the night with a howling Texas Blue Norther Icestorm pounding out of Canada, seven itinerant and mostly indigent "musicians" quite unknown to each other were brooding about as bored as you can get in the most desolate part of Texas you can imagine.
Wired on peel-your-housepaint coffee and trucker speed we discovered each other at the diner counter about to vibrate out of our skins when the waitress said us patrons could kill time in the lounge, which also served as a whorehouse and Southern Baptist Ministry.
There were instruments on the orange crate stage from the house entertainment combo who did not show that night because of the shitty weather and the fact that 'Hee-Haw' was on the cable that night.
Emboldened by our caffeine induced psychosis, Jeanine, Frenchie, Chris Gates, Jayson and Eddie picked up those self same instruments while
Hodge and Caroline found some microphones which weren't too badly slimed by chewing tobacco funk and
proceeded to lay waste to our favorite sixties garage tunes.
Sometimes, we even remembered the chord changes all at the same instant!
The assembled masses were overcome with the fire of our sound, either by appreciation or
lack of a safe escape into the frigid Texas night.
A Legend was born, maybe by C-Section.
The rest is History except that Eddie doesn't play pedal steel in the band, Caroline DOESN'T
give Incall Massage with a "happy ending" much to the dismay of that bunch of big-eared bucktooth rednecks who kept demanding one before she straightened their teeth with a mike stand,
Frenchie, Hodge and Jayson are still catatonic but able to maneuver their instruments enough to gig,
Chris Gates is still the coolest guy in Austin
and Jeanine will NEVER ever be caught again keying up a Juno-6....
