Thu, 17 May 2012 09:29:28 -0500WeeblyFri, 04 May 2012 14:23:28 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/05/a-note-from-benny-golson.htmlReviews come and go, and it is always nice when a trade magazine or respected newspaper comments favorably on a project you have produced. But when the “review” is from a musician for whom you have the greatest respect, an iconic saxophonist you have listened to and been inspired by over the years, it has a special impact.
This note is from one of my heroes, Benny Golson, after hearing my latest release, “The Creep.”

Ted,

In “The Creep” you have obviated an exigent agenda which saps the energy of the unknown, subduing it and giving it life so that it becomes a vitally living thing that's brought into the bright and revealing light of creativity with your overwhelmingly capacious imagination. Yes, indeed you have an imagination that has no quadrilateral boundaries, so that you are affected not only from the bowels of your saxophone but by the movement of your obedient pen as well -- each bearing earmarks of your motivational heart, the creative basis of everything of any consequence.

You're not only playing aggressively, biting like a Tiger Shark, but you've also learned how to make your instrument beautifully “sing.”  Make no mistake, Ron is of the same ilk. You have chosen your supportive instruments/musicians well, so much so that I never miss the harmonic support of the piano. You all have something to 'say,' and you speak in concert … as one entity so that what you say is as if carried out by one mind, one body with multiple appendages.

You 'slap' the listener in the face with your daring and the unexpected (creating vital anticipation) at one moment, then later sooth it with even more precious, deeper feelings of the heart. Fantastic, Ted! You four are to be commended as vanguards of a well-planned future -- rife with creative imagination and a votive determination. All of you have climbed atop the back of that metaphoric creature that will take you 'there' in short order.

So, onward and upward as you shamelessly show your mutual inward parts to the awaiting world. I love it!

Bravo!!!

Benny Golson

P.S.

You've come a million creative miles since Monterey … and you haven't finished because creativity never retires. I'm so proud of you, Ted Nash. ]]>Sun, 22 Apr 2012 10:41:40 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/04/the-creep-west-coast-tour-part-ii.htmlArriving in Los Angeles is always about returning home for me. I grew up there. Now matter how many years pass, walking into my childhood house (which would be my quartet’s home for the next  two days) immediately recalls the hours spent in my bedroom memorizing Bird and Sonny Rollins solos, playing along with Miles Davis’ “My Funny Valentine” or Cedar Walton’s “Eastern Rebellion.” Coming of age in a sea of glorious sounds and expressions that helped form the base of who I am today. I wrote my first compositions on a Wurlitzer electric piano in the corner of my room.

Our first evening in L.A. was spent celebrating the release of “The Creep” with an intimate gathering of friends at the beautiful (”ta die for...”) home of my friend (and producer) Scott Jacobson. Ulysses actually had a gig with Christian McBride in Seattle that evening and had flown out early in the morning. Ron, still battling a cold he had brought on the road with him, opted to lay low this evening. So it was just Paul and I who headed out to Burbank, stopping first at bassist Jim Hughart’s house to pick up an instrument he so graciously allowed Paul to use for our gig at Vitello’s the next day. Paul and Jim talked shop while I pretended to be interested - gut vs. steel, heights, gauges. But I’m sure it’s probably nowhere as bad as if a bass player got caught in conversation between two reed players...

Next stop was Trader Joe’s to grab a case of wine. The very cute checkout girl commented on the amount of bottles I was pulling from my cart - “having a party tonight” she said with a flirtatious aloofness. “Well, yes. It’s my CD RELEASE party, at my PRODUCER'S house,” I responded, trying to sound as important as possible. “Oh, really? What kind of music?” “Jazz.” “Next customer at counter 4.”

Scott’s home, set in the hills, has a sweeping view not only of Burbank, but of Downtown Los Angeles, and beyond. The sun was just setting as the party began, and the view was as warm and inviting as the vibe created by the guests and host. Not knowing how many people were going to show up, Scott bought probably twice as much food than was consumed, and so as not to go to waste, the quartet dragged around several shopping bags of turkey and swiss, roast beef and tuna salad sandwiches for the following two or three days until Paul’s stomach started talking to him. And it wasn’t saying anything nice! We then knew it was time to dump the remaining leftovers, which we did in the gas station garbage at our next fill-up.

Our gig the next day at Vitello's was about as strong an indication that this was truly a homecoming. In addition to the presence of family (father DIck and sister Nikki), about 20 friends from high school were front and center, cheering us on. (How come I wasn’t this popular in high school? Oh, yeah: I was a band geek.) In addition, some of the greatest musicians in Los Angeles were there, some I have known over the years (like Gene Cipriano and Bob Sheppard), and others I met for the first time that night (Like Jerry Vivino). My best friend in grammar school, Arye Gross, was there. I don’t think I had seen him since sixth grade, except for on the big screen: he played Rob Lowe’s buddy in “Soul Man,” and was on the Ellen show for a few years. And my best friend all through junior high school, Mike Lane, was in attendance with his wife Ellen, a wonderful painter. There were so many others - impossible to mention everyone here.- that helped to make the evening special.

Since my quartet had such success with the addition of movements from “Portrait in Seven Shades” to our repertoire, our show (an hour and forty-five minutes straight through) was a mix of these and, of course, selections from “The Creep.” The high point, however came when my father, the legendary Dick Nash, jumped up on the bandstand with his trombone, swinging on some blues in B flat. He played with such sweetness of sound, fluidity of ideas, and control of time; I think he plays better now than he did 40 years ago. At one point, when he snapped out a particularly inspired passage, I glanced over at Ulysses, who was shaking his head, as if saying “man, I know you said he was good, but I had no idea he was THIS good.”

Don Heckman, the great jazz writer and critic, who for many years wrote a column for the Los Angeles Times, was hiding out somewhere. Critics have a way of sliding in under the radar when they expect to write something. This is what Don had this to say in his review in The International Review of Music:

One of the most engaging moments of the night, however, took place when the quartet was joined, spontaneously, on stage by Nash’s father, Dick Nash, a veteran, first-call trombonist whose career in big bands and the L.A. Studios dates back to the ’40s. Playing first a blues and then – after audience applause drew Dick Nash back to the stage – a classic take on “Body and Soul,” the father and son partnership added a tender musical climax to an evening of first rate music.”

The next morning, the band rolled out of bed sometime before 8:00 AM and jumped into the rented mini-van that would be our home for the next week, ultimately taking us all the way up to Canada. Next stop: Grass Valley, CA. Seven hours of some of the most boring scenery, straight up I-5 through Central California. About two hours into the ride you get to turn the wheel to the right a little. The high points of the trip are the California Aqueduct River (one of only two man-made things you can see from space), and a stretch of perhaps two or three miles of the worst smelling air you can imagine, as you approach and pass the largest cow farm you have every seen.

The contrast of pulling into Grass Valley, the location of the Gold Rush of the 1840s, is a sight for sore eyes. Set in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, this quaint mining town could easily be used today in a Western movie. If they still made Westerns, that is... There is something incongruently charming about this town, a cross between simple conservative attitudes, hippie values, and a strong desire to be artistic and cultural. It also has the unfortunate distinction of being the “whitest” county in California (per capita) and when my quartet pulled into to town, the temporary population of “people of color” increased by something like 25%.

We arrived at the hotel with just enough time to check in, set down our bags and head over to the sound check. The Center for the Arts is run by Julie Baker, an entrepreneur, and one of those with the strong desire to make Grass Valley artistic and cultural. Last year she managed to bring the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra here, for what turned out to be one of the best concerts on our month-long tour.

I got to know Julie, her husband Richard, and this unusual town, because my daughters, Lisa and Emily moved here when they were young kids. Visitation meant flying 3,000 miles across the country, which I managed to do on average about eight times a year. Naturally, over the years, I become involved with the community, even renting a small studio apartment for a year at one point.

Arriving at the Center, I was happy to see my friend, bassist Bill Douglas, who’s quartet (playing the music of Thelonious Monk) was the “opening act.” Bill, who happens to be a world-class jazz bass player, performing regularly with greats such as Marian McPartland, Mose Allison and Paula West, is a Grass Valley local.

The concert that night went well. The audience was educated and appreciative. Sometimes when you come to a small town “in the middle of nowhere,” the audience can be happy just to have you there. But I think it was more than that. There was a special vibe. Good energy. Bill’s band was inventive and swinging, and I felt my quartet uncovered a few new twists and turns in the music. It was, after all, just our third concert, with many more to go - many more musical adventures in front of us.

Our next adventure, however, is a ten hour ride to Portland.
Stay tuned... ]]>Sun, 15 Apr 2012 22:25:59 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/04/the-creep-west-coast-tour-part-i.htmlI am writing this on a flight from San Francisco, heading home to New York, reflecting on the tightly packed tour that took my quartet from Southern California to Vancouver and back down to Northern California. It was an exhausting but exhilarating eleven days of concerts, club appearances and educational events.

As leader, tour manager, booking agent and van driver, my job never stopped. It seems like whenever there was potential for some down time, it was stolen away by radio interviews, confirming hotel reservations, or double-checking that the rented or borrowed bass would be at the venue in time for sound check. But this is nothing new: this is the life of a bandleader. And for all this hard work I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The payoff is too great. Getting a chance to lose yourself in the creative process of improvisation on the bandstand with such musicians such as Ron Horton, Paul Sikivie and Ulysses Owens makes it more than worth the 5:30 AM leaves, the ten hour drives, the border hassles, the excess baggage fees.

The tour started with a concert at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art. When Winnie Swalley booked this for us I was more than pleased. I love museums, and great art. But when I received the confirmation e-mail my heart skipped a beat: the Museum had billed the concert as a presentation of “Portrait in Seven Shades,” a work I composed for the 15-piece Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, not a piano-less quartet. My reaction: a reply - “yes, we are looking forward to it” then an immediate action - spending about twenty hours figuring out how to pare down the movements to work for this small ensemble.

After rehearsing the adapted music with the quartet just before leaving for tour, I was a little less apprehensive but still not entirely sure we could pull it off. The time signature of “Dali” is a surreal 13/8, and was presenting a challenge to the rhythm section, who had never played it before. “Monet,” which featured lush, impressionistic orchestrations, sounded bare to me, although refreshingly open at the same time. I had to omit entire sections of “Chagall,” but I actually liked the truncated version.

One thing I feel is important on a tour is to do some kind of education. It is a way of giving back, and connecting with young players; inspiring them and being inspired in the process. With Winnie and Arthur Swalley’s connection to the community, I know we could pull something off, but it still presented a challenge to coordinate. With the help of Patsy Hicks at the Museum, Jim Mooy at the SB City College, Kathleen Dagg Weger, Tina Villadolid and I am sure many others with whom I did not have direct contact, it turned out to be a very nice two-day event.

I also want to thank a few people who helped out to finance the education: Kristen and Kevin at Rico Reeds, longtime friend John Oppedisano, the Santa Barbara Museum of Art, and my father DIck Nash. Without their contributions I would not have been able to pay the members of my band for their time and expertise.

The first educational stop was masterclasses at the College, with visiting high school students as well. This was very efficiently wedged in between our sound check at the Museum, which ended at 3:00, and the concert which began t 5:30.

After a half hour open rehearsal with my quartet, demonstrating to the students how a band goes about learning new music, we broke off into separate rooms and did masterclasses for an hour. There was quite a range of levels among the students. In my class there were players who weren’t quite sure what E minor was, but also some who could navigate well through some chord structures. But the one thing they all seemed to feel comfortable was playing on a blues. Ah, nothing like the blues...

The next day we did a couple classes at La Cuesta High School for continuing education. These are kids mostly those who have dropped out of regular high school, or have run into some trouble along the way. The guys in the band talked to them quite openly and intimately about how they experience passion, and discovered themselves, through music. We stressed the importance of discovering what it is we enjoy doing best. Then we played a couple tunes for them, with Paul jamming on an electric bass borrowed at the last minute.

Some of the students were a bit shy and withdrawn, and others talkative and expressive. Either way they were attentive and curious, and it warmed our souls a bit to see the affect of our verbal and musical expressions.

Here a few comments submitted later to the teacher by some of the students:

“It was an inspirational and interesting event that I have never participated in. Keep up the great work and I’m sure you guys will keep seeing success just as your words will help us reach success.”

“It was a free flow energy and I can see the body language almost as if they were talking through instruments.”

“I really enjoyed the music. I also enjoyed playing with them. I also like the elements they used, the way they communicated without really communicating.”

“I love the chemistry between you guys and the beat of the music.”

“The thing I found really interesting was the chemistry between each instrument’s sounds. Also the way that by one person starting everyone else knows what to play.”

The culmination of the two days’ education came that evening with a jam session that featured on trumpet Winnie and Arthur’s son, Harry Swalley, a senior in high school, and his group of very dedicated and capable musician friends. The evening served a couple. One of the purposes of the evening was o create an opportunity for students and professionals to play together. We were joined by Les Rose, an ex-session player in LA, who now teaches music in Santa Barbara; Kevin Garren, who not only represents Rico Reeds, but is a great saxophonist who plays regularly with the Gordon Goodwin Big Phat Band; Jim Mooy and Tony Ybarra from the College. Also making an appearance were a couple of French Gypsies - a violinist and clarinetist - who happen to be driving by and heard the music. They parked their car and within minutes were wailing on Duke Ellington’s Caravan. And killing, I might add! After, I got a chance to talk with the clarinetist it turned out he happen to be in Mexico City a couple years ago and heard the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra in concert. I love these synchronicities!

Performing the pared-down “Portrait in Seven Shades” to the sold out auditorium at the Museum went much better than I expected. Images of paintings from the Museum’s permanent collection were projected behind the band as we performed the movements, which were inspired by Monet, Dali, Matisse, Picasso, Van Gogh, Chagall, and Pollock. The music came together much better than I expected, mainly due to the musicians’ diligence in learning it, and their flexibility and creativity in adapting it to the small ensemble, and just, well playing their asses off!

My intention was to just do our best to get through the music for this one concert, but instead I realized we had added a lot to our repertoire for the rest of the tour.

With our first two days under our belt, we said goodbye to everyone in Santa Barbara, and headed south to Los Angeles, my hometown. These next two days would prove to be quite a trip, with unexpected reunions, and unplanned musical experiences.

Stay tuned for PART II... ]]>Sat, 31 Mar 2012 15:41:08 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/03/the-creep-has-crept-your-way.htmlI am very excited to announce that my new recording, The Creep, has been released. This album features longtime friend and co-conspirator Ron Horton on trumpet (Herbie Nichols Project, Jazz Composers Collective), as well as two very swinging young musicians on the bass and drums - Paul Sikivie and Ulysses Owens, respectively.

To celebrate and support this release my quartet is hitting the road on Monday (April 2) for a densely-packed tour that will take us as far south as San Diego, and as for north as Vancouver, BC, and lots of places in-between, including that long expanse of Northern California where there doesn’t seem to much of anything, save for a curious place to refuel the mini-van: the sleepy city of Weed, CA. (Wonder why it's sleepy...)

Because this tour will take us to the West Coast, and my hometown of Los Angeles, I will see many close friends and relatives, as well as reunite with people I haven’t seen for years, decades even. A huge group from my high school is planning a trip to Vitello’s in Studio City. One of my best friends in the 5th and 6th grade, actor Arye Gross (he was costar in “Soul Man” with Rob Lowe, and was in the TV show “Ellen” with Ellen DeGeneres) is coming as well. I am excited to catch up with Arye, whom I think I last saw on the playground playing four-square.

One departure from the other gigs on The Creep tour is the quartet’s lecture/performance of “Portrait in Seven Shades” at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art on April 3rd. We will be playing several movements from this long-form piece that was originally performed and recorded by the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. It is going to be a challenge to represent this music with such a scaled-down group (and especially without a piano), as there is much harmony that will be largely “implied.” We had a rehearsal yesterday, and the cats played the s#!t out of the music.

It has been a very intense and often exhausting process getting The Creep out. This is the first release I have done not associated with an established record company. In fact, I set up my own. It’s called Plastic Sax Records. The name is inspired by several things: two of my favorite alto saxophonists (and probably the two greatest innovators on their instrument), Charlie Parker and Ornette Coleman, both used a Grafton plastic sax at different times. The alto, looks very stylish, with it’s off-white acrylic body and brass key work, and art deco-inspired clear plastic key guards.
Another reason for the name is that “plastic sax” was the name of a character I played in a film called “Chaography: Variations on the Theme of Freedom.” In this film I play a character based (very loosely!) on Ornette Coleman.

I have to say that starting your own record company and releasing your first recording tests you to see just how committed you are. I’ve passed...

The Creep is available on iTunes, Amazon, and just about every digital portal you can think of. You can also order hard copies from my web site: www.tednash.com. ]]>Tue, 13 Mar 2012 11:58:58 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/03/three-things.htmlAlways be working on something with a strong goal.
Be loyal to your own integrity.
Drink lots of water. ]]>Tue, 06 Mar 2012 20:20:41 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/03/stationary-in-mobile.htmlI’m sitting in a cafe in Mobile, Alabama. Got the day off, and am spending hours (as I have each day for the past few weeks) on the details of my upcoming CD release and tour. Booking and handling the logistics of a tour on your own is probably the strongest test in proving whether or not you really are committed to do this thing - be a jazz musician.  At the moment it is challenging that commitment. But just for the moment, because I know the payoff will come, as it always does, when I am on the bandstand with my quartet, swinging and sharing this musical space with my band mates and an audience.

I am currently on the road with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, and we have had a good almost two weeks out here, bringing music to the people. About once a year we spend two or three weeks traveling around the south, and in just about every city there are close friends and family members of someone in the band. This always brings a special energy to our performance and experience in that city.

These next few days have us zigzagging between time zones. Sometimes I wonder if the tour is planned using a blindfold and darts. Tonight we leave Mobile at midnight and have a 12 hour drive to West Palm Beach. At least the weather is nice... Well, except for  the other day in Birmingham, Alabama when we had a drive to the venue a couple hours early to avoid the tornado that was predicted to be coming our way.

In a couple cities (Savannah and Atlanta) we have streamed live, and the reaction has been great. This something we’ve just started doing, and hope it grows to be a regular addition to our concerts. You can check out the concert in Atlanta by following this link:

http://new.livestream.com/wyntonmarsalislive/atlantasymphonyorchestra

After the page fully loads, scroll down almost half way, to where it says “Backstage at intermission.” If your Internet connection is strong enough you can watch this video of the second half of the concert - get a little taste of what we’re doing out here. Enjoy! ]]>Thu, 16 Feb 2012 22:33:20 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/02/lee-konitz-is-a-bad-dude.html_I’ve been rehearsing with Jazz at Lincoln Center this week, getting ready for concerts Friday and Saturday nights at Rose Hall. We’re playing the music of Stan Kenton, and our special guest is the great alto saxophonist Lee Konitz.

I first met Lee in the early 80s when he walked across Central Park to a now defunct club named Bechet’s to hear one of his idols, the great saxophonist who made a name for himself in the late 40s playing with “Les Brown and the Band or Renown,” Ted Nash. The only problem was it wasn’t the great Ted Nash, it was me. Barely in my 20s, I was largely unknown, and it was understandable that Lee would make the mistake. The fact that Lee actually stayed and listened to this newbie play a set (although my trio did feature the pianist Kenny Baron) said a lot for him.

I have been a big fan of Lee’s for years. If you haven’t heard his 1949 recording “Subconscious-Lee” stop reading this and get your butt on Amazon...

And check out  this video!

Although Lee’s playing has changed a lot - he now plays with much more space and reflection - it is extremely melodic and deeply felt. I love how he balances intellect with the blues.

Some of the Kenton arrangements are particularly inventive, especially the ones by Bill Holman and Bill Russo.

I really hope you can come check this concert out.
]]>Mon, 06 Feb 2012 21:01:50 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/02/what-is-improvisation.html_I’m psyched! Doing a “Jazz For Young People” with Matt Wilson and friends this Friday and Saturday at Jazz at Lincoln Center. Playing with Matt is always an experience. And unpredictable. Like when we played a duo concert at Merkin Hall, and ended up doing skits. And making carrot juice. Check out the video. http://youtu.be/lZ2uj8C09DA

Well, this concert coming up this weekend should be full of surprises. I have already seen the script, and he has everyone acting and playing roles.

I know it’s meant for kids and families, but even if you are kid-less you need to come check this concert out! For more information: http://jalc.org/concerts/details309a.asp?EventID=2646

I gotta learn my lines...
]]>Thu, 02 Feb 2012 14:07:02 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/02/sittin-in-with-sutton-on-saturday.html_Had a great time the other night at Birdland! Went down to catch The Tierney Sutton Band for their last set of the week. I was really glad I showed up. I was in one of those “stay-at-home-on-a-Saturday-night” moods, but reminded myself what I ask other people sometimes: a few years from now what are you going to remember - that you stayed home and got some work done, or went to be part of something?

The band was playing music from many of their recordings, including their most recent, American Road. The West Side Story arrangements were killing. What I love about this band is that they have been together for almost 20 years, and the kind of trust and intimacy that comes with this long-term relationship really shows.

Tierney is like family. Her husband, the great trombonist Alan Kaplan, and I have been friends since we played in the Don Ellis Band together, back when we were practically kids (not sure how old Alan was, but I was 17). When my mother passed a couple years ago, Tierney and Alan were among the close friends and family that were at the wake.

I have been reprimanded in the recent past for not bringing my horn down to someone else’s gig (thanks, Wynton!) so I had my alto with me when I walked in the door at Birdland on Saturday. When I saw Tierney she said “Hey, you got a horn with you?” “Of course” I replied, as if I did that every time I went anywhere.

On the 5th tune, Tierney announced: “We are going to do something we have never done in all the years we have played at Birdland - have a horn player sit in with us.” I had no idea we were setting a precedent. I figured it happened all the time. She gave me a very generous introduction and I grabbed my 70s Vito alto and got to the stage just as they began Caravan. The band was killing, and being part of their sound felt as if I had played with them for years.

Toward the end of the set Tierney called me back up to play a ballad of my choice. I said the first song that came to mind: “My One and Only Love,” not even sure how well I knew it. Tierny turned to her pianist, Christian Jacob, and he just kind of shrugged like it should be cool. Tierny just started singing where it felt natural, and then Christian joined in, followed by Kevin Axt (bass) and Ray Brinker (drums). Between phrases Tierney said “Did I pick a stupid key like B, or something?” showing both her sense of humor and easy-going style.

The key really wasn’t important. What was important is that everyone played with such sensitivity and creativity. Particularly Christian, who really knows how to take risks behind Tierney without getting in her way.

Glad I didn’t stay at home.
]]>Sun, 22 Jan 2012 13:28:55 -0500http://tednash.com/3/post/2012/01/hippie-mobile-part-ii-to-catch-up-see-previous-blog.html_We had to wait for about thirty minutes for them to get to us, still parked next to the gas pump, sticking out a little, in peoples way. When they arrived they looked at me like “If this starts right up I’m going to be mad.” Like when I couldn’t find a shoe or something and my mom would come upstairs saying “If I find this right away you’re in trouble.” Which never made a lot of sense to me. But anyway, they tried the ignition a few times, with negative results. I was hoping they would be mad at me...

We push-started the van (one great thing about stick shifts!), and decided to head back to the shop to work on the ignition. But of course we didn’t even get that far when the engine lost compression, and got slower and slower, like the inferior “ordinary carbon” battery in the Eveready commercials. We pulled off at the next exit and crawled to a nearby parking lot, the van coughing and farting the whole way.  After working on the car for close to an hour they realized they needed more tools and parts, and drove back to the shop.

Ivette and I walked about a half mile down the street to an ice cream shop and waited out the delay eating double scoops of mint and mocha. Mainly we just wanted to be indoors where it was warm (of course we came to Florida on the coldest day of the year).

Forty-five minutes later the guys were back with thick canvas bags full of tools and parts. We watched as they replace the battery, the starter, and the points. All to no avail.

The AAA flatbed tow truck arrived about an hour later, and the guy attached a huge cable to somewhere under the perfectly preserved bumper. “I just want to let you know the bumper where the chain is scraping against it might get a little scratched,” he informed me perfunctorily. I suggested he put a rag between the chain and the bumper, and he did, with a look on his face like I was asking for more than anyone else ever had.

After about three hours at the shop the van was once again ready to hit the road. Something to do with the distributor, I think. Hand shakes all around, more comments from both sides about how beautiful the van was, etc. Whether we had intended to or not, we had gotten to know these people.

Finally - on the road! There had been a bomb threat on the main route (I guess someone wanted to blow up a palm tree, or something) so we were redirected onto a smaller residential street through the hood. (The sellers had earlier talked about how dangerous this part of town was.) We hit a speed bump and the headlights went out. I slowly drove for a couple blocks while trying to get the lights to come back on, pushing and pulling knobs, the windshield wipers wiping, emergency flashers flashing. Good thing we weren’t attracting any attention! I finally pulled over, but changed my mind and pulled back out when I noticed a couple rough characters walking towards the car.

We drove for half a mile and parked on bigger street, one with street lamps. I got out and lightly kicked the headlights (I had seen that in a movie once), but it didn’t work.

Back on the phone. Ryan and Mike were washing their hands (literally and figuratively) and almost laughed. I told them we were only a few blocks away and to wait there. When we pulled up, laughing ironically (at least we were still laughing), Mike reminded me that sometimes you had to jiggle the ignition a little, which he did, and the lights were back on.

“Bye, Bye, thank you.” “Good luck. Take care.”

This time we got about fifteen miles north on 95, and the van just DIED. Unbelievable. We called Ryan who by that time was home with his wife and kids, showered and ready for bed. It had been a long day.  He put the call into AAA, and we sat in the cold camper for at last 45 minutes until the tow truck arrived.

We met Ryan back to shop, where we dropped the van off. The car was going to need new parts, and they would have to drive to Ft. Lauderdale in the morning to get them. Ivette and I headed to the nearest hotel. It was midnight, and last call at the lobby bar, where Ivette and I sipped a cabernet, and ate the free Double Tree cookies (our dinner).

The next day was spent hanging around the lobby, calling for updates. At one point I hadn’t been able reach them for a couple hours and I hoped it was because they were under the car, and not half way to Mexico.

When we finally did get them on the phone, it was apparent the van was nowhere near being road ready, and we decided to get back on a plane to New York.

*****

A couple days later Ryan called. The van, with rebuilt distributor, new battery, new points and plugs, repaired brakes, and new starter, was ready to be shipped to New York.  “Good to go,” he assured me. I told him I’ll believe when I see it (and drive it more than 15 miles...).

I got a call from the shipping company on the following Saturday - the camper was in Brooklyn, in the shipping yard. I could let them deliver it, or come and get it for a $50 discount. I opted for the discount.

Bright and early Monday morning Ivette and I headed out to Brooklyn on the subway. A guy picked us up at the subway and drove us a couple miles to some industrial area near the water. We pulled into the lot, and there it was, wedged between a couple nondescript vehicles: my beautiful, candy-apple red 1971 VW camper. I guess it wasn’t a dream - I really did buy this thing.

I signed the necessary documents and climbed into the van, praying to the Hippie Gods somewhere that this would start. It did. Thank you Reality D. Blipcrotch (won’t make sense to you if you didn’t read Part I).

First stop: the DMV to get plates. The car was currently unregistered, without plates, and bright red. Not a great combination. Navigating through lower Manhattan using the iPhone GPS wasn’t working - it placed us somewhere in New Jersey. After a few wrong turns we finally pulled up in front of the DMV. It was closed! Martin Luther King Day! I need to start watching the news...

Half way through a nervous drive up the West Side Highway, with my constant glancing in the rearview mirror for police cars, the car started making a very loud noise. And got louder and louder. Hmmm...the car still had good compression. Then I remembered: I was supposed to turn back the key slightly after starting the car. The ignition switch was faulty and stayed forward constantly engaging the starter, unless you did this little trick Mike and Ryan had showed me when we first looked at the car in Florida. Well, I hadn’t done it, but did as soon as I remembered. Slowly the loud noise began to fade. The rest of the ride uptown felt calm and steady.

My original plan was to get to my neighborhood a little before alternate side of the street parking was over, to nab a good spot in front of my apartment building. The timing was perfect, but my plan wasn’t -  there was no alternate side of the street parking in effect due to the holiday. By some miracle, however, I found a spot across the street. A good omen? Let’s not act so fast...

I got into my apartment and immediately called the police station and asked what would happen to a car parked in the street that didn’t have plates. “You can’t park that in the street. It’ll be towed. Or at least tagged. You gotta get that off the street.” I almost sprinted to the car. But was okay so far - no ticket. But the cop was right - I needed to get this into a garage for the night.

I get and turn the key and guess what - the car wouldn’t start. (You’re getting smart.) Just a loud churning noise coming from the back of the van. “The starter,” I thought to myself. “I burned out the starter!”

My neighbor Paul was home and helped me push start the car, and I drove it straight to the nearest garage, where it spent the next three  days getting the burned out starter replaced, and having the tricky ignition to not be so tricky.

When I picked up the car three days later, it started and drove with no problem. I parked it in front of my building a couple days ago and every time I pass it, heading to the subway, or going to the store, there is always someone standing there looking at it. Or taking a picture of it. I guess it does look like some kind of museum piece. Come to think of it, maybe it WOULD be better off in museum...

The van will be used in a TV show I will be hosting called “The Best You’ve Never Heard.” This will be the subject of a future blog.

I have posted photos and a video here:
www.tednash.com/camper.html

Thanks for reading all the way through!
]]>