Jimmy, Charlie and I, prior to Train, were in a band called Apostles. One of the first Apostles shows was at a little dive in Santa Monica called the Music Machine. I'd gotten off work, hustled back to my place in East Hollywood, loaded my amp and guitars into the back of my old Dodge wagon to battle the rush-hour traffic across town.
As always, I'm a little bit late. It's hot; I hate my job; I hate the smog; I hate this town. The traffic's bad enough, but I'm behind this squareback that's going 10 miles an hour slower than anybody else. I shout aloud, "Man, I gotta get past this f*!@in' clown!" As I pass on the left I glance over to get a look at the driver...It's a clown!!! Face paint; big red nose, big yellow Afro. My greatest existential moment! I laughed all the rest of the way to the club.
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