-A 10+ year roadtrip thread thanks almost entirely to Dave Rinck, the secret hero of this prose.-
Back in ’82 we went to see the Stones at the LA coliseum with Werner Cook. That’s Dave Rinck, Werner (none of you will remember him I’m sure…punk rock tournament tennis star…really) and me, in Dave’s Mom’s white proto SUV. On the way up we stopped for cash in San Juan Capistrano. We had an enourmous bag (like a huge trash bag size) full of popcorn in the back of the truck. We found a pink ’65 rambler in the parking lot with the doors unlocked. So we did what anyone would do…we filled the car with popcorn, released the parking brake, put it in neutral and pushed it out into traffic without a driver.
We drove off without watching to see what might happen.
“Another one of one MILLION! Dave Rinck strikes again!”
On to LA where we stayed with some girls in the dorms at USC…’cause that’s where the coliseum is and that’s where the girls were.
This was about the last good Stones tour, with Bill Wyman still there. 80k people at the coliseum, and we’re literally in the front row up against the plywood and bouncers. As in right under Mick’s nostrils. I was all mod in pressed trousers and loafers. Lost my shoes once and Dave parted the crowd like Moses so I could get them back. I lost touch with the ground entirely for minutes at a time with the crush of the crowd so intense. Good show.
We spent that evening on Sunset and I ran into John Ride from Inglewood (part of the Untouchables’ entourage) and went to stay at his house for the night. Got back with Werner and Dave the next day and they (Dave anyway) told me a story about running into Mick and Charlie Watts accompanied by a huge chinese bodyguard at Madame Wong’s that night and having a nice chat with CW. Total bullshit I’m sure, but a story I’ve repeated and embellished many times…thanks for the material Dave!
Push comes to shove and it’s time to shove off…back to SD.
South on 5 and Dave says “hey guys…we got about 5 minutes until we run out of gas.”
I says “what about the gas money we got in San Juan?” and then I spy a pile of Bad Religion singles on the back seat and my question is answered.
Magically a clorox bottle and hose appear in the back of the truck and we pull off the road. Westminster. Heart of Orange County. Duh.
Of course I end up sucking the hose in back of a very empty Mustang…decide to take a break from sucking gas fumes, and there’s a cop standing over me.
So I spend the night in the OC Juvenile Hall. White guys wanted to kick my ass for being a “punk rocker” so I sat with the Mexican guys. I had short hair and sat down in the middle of them so I was OK there.
Dave and Werner went home (after selling their tape recorder for gas $) to my house and sat down to eat dinner with my mom and didn’t tell her a THING…the phone rang and then my mom comes back to the table…
“Did you guys know Pat was in jail in Orange County?” she asked them.
“Oh Yeah! That’s right!” they say. “Pass the spaghetti please.”
Now my mom does not own a car. Never did. Took her 3 days to find somebody to come get me. Their car threw a rod on the way and they had to get ANOTHER ride for all of us. Major ordeal.
I figured Dave owed me for that one. I got the payoff years later. Early 1984.
Dave had bikes. Motorcycles. Lots of motorcycles. I wanted the Guzzi. 1970 Ambassador 750 Police Special. So I got him to agree to sell it to me for $600 which he regretted…but I had witnesses to his agreement, and I knew he only paid $300 for it so he couldn’t be a total dick about it.
-this was the same year I got my ass kicked at Presidio with John Murphy by the Bomber Boys. May Dale and his fellows all rot in jail or hell or both.-
I got the Guzzi and moved that summer to SF. Put Eric Bacher on the back and drove the coast in 2 days. We stopped at UCSB and stayed with some girls in a dorm, cause that’s where the food was and that’s where the girls were. I loved dorms.
We lost a battery cover somewhere near Big Sur, but that was the worst of it so we figured it was a successful ride. Got to SF late that night and crashed.
I had sent a large trunk full of my ’45s ahead on the Amtrack. I had 3 months rent paid in advance and another $400 in my pocket. Nice summer.
I never had a driver’s license, but spent the next 10 years on that bike. It’s nice to have a cop bike when you have no license. It really confuses the police, and as long as you have good tags on the plates and a helmet, they just smile and wave.
Got tired of SF and moved to Santa Cruz. Headed back for one last visit and headed north on 1 again. While passing through Davenport (a few miles north of Santa Cruz) a lady in a tired old Olds turned across the highway in front of me. I T-Boned her at about 50MPH and did a cartwheel. Broke my leg and my collarbone but the helmet saved me. Thank god for the helmet law.
I figure this was karma for cutting loose that Rambler in San Juan all those years ago…kinda like it caught up and hit me after all that time. I remember lying there thinking about it while the ambulance was coming.
“Cool…I’m not dead!…but where’s that popcorn smell coming from?”
So do tell…what’s your favorite road trip memory?
Over and out,
Patrick Works
King of the Road
I don’t think the rotor was actually broken!!!
Don’t pretty much ALL crazy road trip stories involve Dave Rinck?
Dave Rinck. Bags of Price Club popcorn the size of a four-year-old child.
Dave keeps switching the AM stations ’till he finds another one playing “Double Dutch Bus”, and sings along.
What the heck was that mall in OC that we sent the next day in? God that was weird.
I was wondering about the rotor…so you never did ask him if that was a set up just to scare you?
Fernando Toro…did he have a girlfriend named Dina? If so, I went to high school with her.
D’na Pisciotta. She always claimed that she’d removed the ‘i’ from her name.
I’ve always wondered what happened to Dina. She and her roommate (Super nice girl- not petite- red hair) had an apartment not too far from the headquarters. They were people who saw us on the side of the road and pulled over to chat and ended up being good friends for a time.
One night she decided to have a party and then freaked out, and we were all sent out into the night on our own. I remember Squirrel was passed out on the floor of that seven eleven near there, and we picked him up and poured him into someone’s car and they took him home.
Another time we shared our magic box tops with D’na and she kicked us out then too, and Joe Russo, Eliah Sawyer, Coconut, Mira, John Warnock and I ended up at that seedy motel down there- but not before I really messed with some long haul truckers at the burger king (or whatever that fast food joint was near the headquarters). I had just purchased a really tacky multicolored sport jacket from the Salvation army, and at the time my hair was all chopped to shit like I had mange. I’m sure they thought I was a raving lunatic.
Poor Dina couldn’t handle the stress of it all.
Did her parents own a bunch of Der Weinerschnitzels (Spelling admittadly incorrect.)
And on another note- I just had a flash- what did John Marshall look like, and could he be the tall rockabilly guy I was trying to figure out earlier?
“Admittedly”
You’re probably thinking of Doug Rudolf…he always had a rockabilly look, even the last time I saw him in the 90s…he was tall and thin. He lived at Greenwich Village West the same time John did.
Yes, Dina spelled her name DNA. Her boyfriend in high school had her name tattooed on his arm in Old English…three capital letters, DNA. After they split up he got an E tattooed in front of it so it read EDNA. She changed her last name from Pisciotta, though…I dont remember to what.
She was probably putting you on if she said her parents owned Der Weinerschnitzels, but I couldnt say for sure. That sounds like the kind of thing she’d make up and think it was funny.
I remember when she lived near Headquarters. Her “not petite” roomate’s name was Colleen, who was also from Poway. They were both a couple of years older than me. The last time I saw her was right after my wife and I moved to L.A. about 9 years ago. She was working at Retail Slut, the last of the old Melrose stores. She said she was designing clothes for them too…but of course they’re gone now.
D’argo.
Last I heard she was dancing for a living. That was around 89.
I truly hope she did well. She was all over the map but mostly she was a lot of fun and never a dull moment. Somewhere I have some stuff written about our time hanging out with her, and it was all fond memories. She treated me pretty fair, for the stupid little kid that I was at the time.
Yup…D’na D’argo. That also sounds somehow made up…haha.
And it’s likely that you’d have known Doug Rudolf…since he was dating Leah Siebert at the time…Jason’s sister.
Very good reading, men.
Anybody recall the weekend the Jam played at Perkin’s Palace. Now that was a hell of a roadtrip… i imagine Pat will chime in on this one.
Looking forward to it.
I’m pretty certain there are some hilarious stories of trips to the US fest and the Who’s supposed last performance. I think about half the ‘scene’ were there.
The Jam in 82 @ Perkins? Hell of a scooter ride:-)…
Oh Pat, I laughed so hard I cried when I read this. I remember that trip to see the Stones so well. I would only like to add that it was indeed a great concert!
My wild road trip story though is probably the Wallflowers “tour” of Arizona. We lured Paul Hokeness out with us under the guise of legal underage drinking (at the time you had to be only 16 to drink in Arizona), and guess what he did? He forgot his ID, so even at 16 he could only watch as Paul Howland and I drank huge frosty beers after that horrible long trip across the desert! hahaha!
Man, we need to get Paul on here man!
BTW Dave E, do you wanna tell that story about those two girls from the midwest that we talked into taking us to Mex that night, and how those kidnapping charges that almost got raised against you, or should we not go there?
dave you lit me on fire in the back of a big white van in front of what i think was your house. i still have a bald patch on one calf. its good to see you well, and great to hear the wallflowers agian ! best show i remember was at the g.v.w. was it your girlfriend or steve garises that had a courtney love thing going on that nite ? blurry memory of a brick doorway and somthing bad i think ? remember your set clearly. the next 5 or 6 years get kind of hazey. much love
Hi Bobo, man even after 30 years, I am so sorry I lit you on fire that night.
Some of the best friends a guy can have are people he’s lit on fire.
Dave R… that story was the first thing that came to mind when I saw this thread. I’ll write it up and post it…i can still remember all the weird things that happened that night.
OH DAVE, please ! that was as good a night as any i can kinda remember from my sorted youth. I was just trying to find a sign post in the odd road of past for you to remember me by. someone was laughing, i was warm [ and it wasent from being piss drunk agian ] and i woke up with another story to embelish and brighten the afternoons on my porch educating later generations now that im in the autumn of my years. much love !
toby u scamp.
Dave, who played guitar in the Wallflowers when you guys went to AZ? was that Sam? I vaugely remember him telling me back then about a long trip to some out of town gig.
i remember being at 3 or four wallflowers shows, i thought thats all there were, i hope i made it to the rest. at the time you guys playd the little basment of gvw i remember thinking that may well have been the best show ever, really ! i think i may have frothd and gushd and made an ass out of myself agian, this time from being so overstimulated by the performance ! wallflowes, gravedigger 5 and men of clay thats my top pick for san diego bands of my day ! answers were the shit but saddly the only one outa the four i hear every day or at all really is the gravedigger 5 on my friend the i pod. still got all my records and have digitized them. any way i can down load anything by the others ? maybe i did go to more of those gigs? help dave, was i there? have you seen me ? i need a milk carton
I can imagine poor Sam having to endure a certain girl doing her obnoxious baby voice routine for an entire weekend. No wonder he quit…haha.
Mathew, you’re probably a beter man for not having gone on that adventure… hahaha
Bobo, I think you were at lot of Wallflowers shows, but you don’t remember being there. That happened to us folks a lot in those days.
Dave, exactly! Man, Sammy was not into whining girls. Plus I think he was trynig to have a gurlfreind at that time, and you know how that screws things up.
Actually, I remember Christina as being really nice. She posted on here somewhere, I think. She wasnt the one I was referring to.
And Im still working on the story of the Ensenada trip…it’s a long story! Hard to believe all those things happened in one night.
i,m glad those days happend, and stoped happening. i knew you for years and years b4 the wallflowers thing. i remember standing there slack jawd and thinking , i didnt know he could do that. like when jeff and i were homless living in the houses of the recently deseesd and he got a young lady to sneek out a chello from her jr high and he, verry drunk, started to play it, i mean really like good and i, uh had another beer and wonderd what i mite spontainiously be able to do at any moment.
Total non sequitur but related to that cello story:
I picked up an upright backless piano years ago for $300 from a junk shop. I had a guy come tune it and make a few repairs and my daughter took lessons for a while, and then it was just part of the family and whenever we had a party someone would invariably sit down and play and it was always interesting to see who chose to play what.
So living nearly half my life in the outer islands I have a lot of freinds from all over around here, all types. A good friend of mine is a Hawaiian guy- a surfer who cooks at restaurants sometimes, doesn’t work for long stretches, hangs on the beach a lot- just a regular guy. Coincidentally he is a cousin to the late Isreal Kamakawiwoole, and Moe Keale (another well known Hawaiian musician who is no longer with us) was his uncle. His kids are all super gifted surfers and skateboarders and one in particular- the middle of three sons- is an honest to god Ukulele prodigy who gets invited regularly to play with all kinds of people who come through here. He also plays guitar, and we used to jam quite a bit a few years back when I was organizing lots of musical get togethers and jams and whatever. He also has this righteous bleached out afro and if you saw him walking down the street you couldn’t tell any difference between him and any of the million stoned out surfers tripping around here.
So this 14 year old Hawaiian kid comes to my house the first time and immediately picks up an old Takamine G series that sits in a corner of my living room, and then he makes his way over to the piano and flips up the cover to reveal the keys. It’s early and his dad ands I are playing cards before anyone has arrived, and the kid points at the piano and asks me if he can play it and I say no problem, and he sits down and plays this beautiful chunk of Rites of Spring by Stravinsky. I just look over at his dad and he holds up his beer and laughs, “Must be from his mom’s side.”
I totally dig stuff like that. I used to jam with a hip-hop/Hawaiian crossover guy who was pretty big at one time on Oahu and he never ceased to surprise me with what he cold play (virtually any instrument, it seemed) and what songs he chose to have in his repertoire.
I lived in Wyoming for half a decade, at 8000 feet elevation pretty much in the middle of nowhere, in a town of 1000 people where odd as it may seem I was a city councilman. I was driving to work and ran into a large herd of cows being driven across the road, and in the usual fashion I beeped my horn and slowly pushed my way through. It’s all very surrealistic, every time- cows braying and mooing, dust in the air, the cowboys looking essentially as they would have 100 years ago. It’s like you’ve been time warped into a Louis L’amoure novel. I get through the herd and a cowboy breaks loose and rides up next to me, pulling down the handkerchief he has covering his mouth to keep the dust out and pulling off his walkman. I see it’s a guy I know from town, a volunteer fireman who is a pretty cool guy and born and raised there in town. He grins and says hi, yelling over the din of the passing cattle, and asks me if I’m going to get the public volleyball courts approved at the meeting that night. I tell him yeah- I’d like to see that project pushed through. The juxtaposition isn’t really complete until the end of the exchange when I ask him what he’s listening to and he grins and flashes me a devils horn with his work gloved hand and says, “Guns and Roses.”
I’m sure Marty Robbins and Hank Senior would be smiling at that one.
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be Axl! LOL
that was great.
if only tom johnston had won his bid for mayor of el cajon ! running on a platform of abolish all victimless crimes. i will never understand how that diddent get the green light. specially with him rallying the troops by running the anarchy flag up the flag pole in the park every day. the park next to the la mesa police station, rope n one hand 40 boy of old english in the other god bless im, he had my vote and a fine collection of the flags he took down so he could run ours up.
The whiny baby voice belonged to someone with the initials E.T. (phone home, PLEEEASE!) And I’m pretty sure it was Michelle Crone, not Cristina Herrold. Remember, her and Elena (oops!) got in a fistfight with each other in the parking lot of the Cavern.