One night Chuck Grover and I were doing a gig in Epsom, New Hampshire. We took his car, a bright and shiny 86 Cutlass, with a seat like a couch. As we were leaving, I commented on what a pleasure it was to sit in a comfy car.

Now I love Chuck, but he is not the most positive guy in the land. If you bought him a Dale Carnegie book, it’s a safe bet that he would finish it, feel good for a minute, and then complain about how everything sucks. Oddly enough, I love hanging out with this guy. He’s great people.

About 20 minutes into the ride, I heard the exhaust completely separate from the header pipe. At this point it was impossible to hear ANYTHING. All of a sudden a Cutlass Calais sounds like the General Lee. I sunk into the seat. Chuck was searching for solutions, and concluded that napkins would work.

“ Napkins?” I asked, wondering what the hell he was thinking. He rolled up napkins and filled his ears with them. I followed suit. We looked like a couple of idiots. You could have told us, but we wouldn’t have been able to hear you. Our reward? Eight people in the audience. I love Showbiz.