Oh, brother. There he goes again. Of all the charter bus companies we could have picked for our big music trip, we had to get him for the driver. Oh well, this bus outfit is the only charter service we could afford and still have enough cash left over to pay for the Van Morrison tickets.

These are the voyages…

It wouldn’t be so bad if the driver would stop ranting about outer space on the bus P.A. system. I mean, if he really wanted something to talk about, he could try mentioning Deep Purple in Australia, or Journey in Japan.

It’s five year mission…

There he goes with that mission crap again. I mean, Tesla has regrouped to do a small number of shows, but for the past 1000 miles he’s been spouting that garbage about space being the final frontier and exploring…

Strange new worlds…

You’d think he’d get a clue. This is a music charter bus. If he wants to talk about anything at all, he should be talking about all the upcoming concerts, like Fastball and Chris Isaak.

To seek out new life and new civilizations…

You would think that the driver of a charter music bus would know something about music, but all this guy does is regurgitate those old lines from that 60s TV show. While we were refueling in Barstow, I asked him if he ever went to any shows, like Warren Zevon or Weezer. He said that he used to see shows all the time, but that he lost all his money on the stock market. Said he thought the stock was going to be “big, really big.” In fact, that’s why he’s driving this bus. He said it was the only job he could find where he could “name his own price.”

To boldly go where no man has gone before!

Excuse me for a minute. “Hey! You driving the bus! Yo, Bill! Put a lid on it!”

We got a mighty convoy…

Sheesh. What a putz.