Grandmom...

"Why are you crying?" - Me.

Over the years we have put a lot of miles on our second-hand, black, '00 Eddie Bauer Edition, Ford Expedition. Grandmom, as we called her, has taken us across the country multiple times. She has gotten us up and down the mountains in Colorado and guided us through deserts in Nevada, Texas, and California. We have been through the Great Plains together. Grandmom has made it through more National Parks than I can remember, down alleyways she could barely fit through, been parallel parked in spaces that mathematically didn't make sense, all while hauling our small enclosed trailer. Grandmom has been packed with musical equipment, as well as accidentally passing through a close-set movie filming. Grandmom does what Grandmom wants. We were just there for the ride.

Since moving back to Santa Monica, the old girl has been sitting for over a year collecting parking tickets. It is unfair for us to keep her stationary. Grandmom is a road-dog. She needs to get back out there to explore. She needs to stretch her legs and adventure. She has done a lot for us, and now it is time to pass her on to the next adventurer who can get her back on the road. We will miss you old girl.

It was not an easy decision to put Grandmom up for sale. The mean streets of Santa Monica and the greed of the city have put us in the tough position of downsizing. Santa Monica and the greater LA area makes it impossible for anyone to park on any street, at any time. Grandmom was getting parking tickets weekly on our residential street. We were spending more on her just sitting there than we had in the past 5 years on repairs, gas, and traveling across the country.

We never thought we would get this upset over selling an inanimate object. I was actually quite happy to post her "for sale" ad on Craiglist. I was fueled by the hate of paying never-ending parking tickets, but once someone actually responded to make a cash offer, the sale of Grandmom became real. At first, I was glad to get rid of her, but when I cleaned her out for the last time coming across nicknacks that had been lodged under the seats from the different hotels we had stayed at, or various gas stations we filled up at, it hit me. This was the end of our time together. As we drove to drop her off to her next owner, I was fighting back the tears. An overwhelming wave of gratefulness and guilt washed over me. It didn't help that Jamie was sprawled across the foldable-bench-seating in the rear bawling, I mean really ugly crying. Full on moans and sadness poured out of her, she was inconsolable. And, so was I - on the inside.

Handing over her title and signing over our liability of Grandmom was tough. My ears were hot, and my throat had swollen shut. It took everything in me not to cry. I patted her on the hood on last time and quietly whispered my thank yous to her for all she had done for us. She had essentially protected my family like it was her own. She had made sure we always got to our destination safely. I am glad we spent the last few years together, and I hope I treated you as well as you treated us.

Take care of your new owners like you took care of us, and I look forward to seeing you soon in auto-heaven.

Thank you, Grandmom.

-YourFriendMatt

One Week To Go...

“I did not think I would be this emotional over a car.” - Me.

Jamie and I are in our final week of the life we built for ourselves in California. When we moved from Pennsylvania all the way to Santa Monica we thought we were adults, but now I realize that we still had a lot to learn. This time around moving is more stressful than before. Our apartment is the place that protected us, was our roof and the constant when everything was falling apart around us. It is becoming surreal as we pack up boxes and take down the memories we put up on the walls.

This week I sold my car that I have had for 1/3 of my life. That car and I have been up and down both North American coasts and across the country. It was my home for a night when I moved out of my mom's house, and it was the car that took Jamie and me on our first date. Ole Trusty took me to countless band practices and shows. She was one of the most consistent things in my life as I went through adolescence and was a luxury I never took for granted. I have made many memories in the car, and I hope she is now making another family just as happy as she made me.

As we get up this morning, we may take one of our last trips together to the beach and possibly our last trip up the PCH to grab some Neptune’s Net. We can always come back, but you never realize how many routines you have or how some things we took for granted that were at our fingertips. I could not be more excited to start the next chapter in our lives together and take Nashville by the horns to see what she has to offer. 

But for now…I am savoring every moment I have left in CA.

-YourFriendMatt

Summer Film Series...

Over the next few weeks I will be posting some of the short films I have been lucky enough to work on. Making these were some of the best times of my life. It blows my mind how lucky I am that I work with so many talented people who let me call them my friends.

This was filmed shortly after I moved to Los Angeles. My buddy Chris called me to tell me he was in Las Vegas and had an idea. One bus fare, a few cocktails, lost footage, a red sports car and a totaled Ford Explorer later...and we had this. 

Enjoy!

-YourFriendMatt

Ol' Trusty...Part One...

"Dude, this could be her last ride. It's only right we take her." I said to Chris convincing him to take the dilapitated band van to our most recent show.

Throughout the years music has taken me across the nation and back. I consider these some of the most formative years of my life. When you are 1,400 miles from home, have no money, everything you own is broken or smelly you learn a thing or two. Since my friends and I started playing music we have destroyed every one of my mom's cars, most of my friend's parents cars, every one of our own cars, vans bought strictly for the band (old or new) and now we have a hand-me-down 2005 Ford FreeStar.

The band van is a beautiful thing. It's your safe house. Office. Board Room. Mobile home. Sales force..makeshift acoustic performance stage...salvation and worst nightmare. I've learned more about  auto repair on the side of the highway...at night...in a state I've never been too...with 18-wheelers whizzing by...underage...in the snow...than I ever will in a driveway. All in all seeing new things from a bench seat in a busted van was one of my favorite parts of the journey.

Up until this point of my life preforming has been something I have always done. I have had a chance to play with some great musicians in Los Angeles since my move but haven't hit a stage in a few months. When my old band got a call from the biggest rock radio stations in Philadelphia to preform live we all went for it. I landed in Philadelphia the day before the show and we ran through our normal setlist, caught up and went home to get a good night sleep.

We gathered on the day of the show at Chris' house to get a plan together. We needed to figure out how we were going to get our equipment to the show. Take separate cars? No, that is lame. Then it dawned on us (well at least me) that the old band van was still sitting out front.

Side-note: A quick back story on this van: It was Chris' families van for years. It has carted him and his siblings to countless karate and basketball tournaments. As the years progressed the air conditioning eventually gave up resulting in too many summer adventures with both sliding doors open...including a trip all the way to Outer Banks, NC from Swedesboro, NJ with the doors open. I know the van has been in at least one accident on the highway and after that they gave it to Chris...who never fixed the headlight. Why bother? Something is also wrong with the battery connection so we had to carry around a little wrench to undo the positive connection to the battery everywhere we went. We would show up to work, pop the hood and unhook the battery...besides all that...this van is a gem and we wouldn't have it any other way. One more thing, it looks like this on the inside...

"Dude! Let's take the van!" I screech cracking an ice cold Pabst. "I don't know man, I haven't started her in months." Chris says turning to me. "Dude, this could be her last ride. It's only right we take her. Who knows when we will do this again!" Sipping and spitting beer everywhere. Chris shrugs with a half-assed sigh and we make our way outside to check out the van.

She sits on the street waiting for us to come check her out. She hasn’t been moved in months and there is a layer of yellow and brown dust pollen covering her exterior. One of the tires is just about flat but we know we can make it to the gas station to fill it back up. As we peer in the back tinted windows we see our previous filth from the last ride…and its disgusting…just the way we like it. “Let’s pop the hood and connect the battery!” Chris yells getting more energized remembering all the good times we have had in this beauty.

There was a zap of blue electric that shocked us as we reattached the positive connection to the battery. “Yes!” We belted with a second wind of excitement. This was a good sign and we both knew it. Chris ripped open the driver side door ready with his keys and turned the ignition. She turned over with a sputter, pop - and finally roared like a dying old bird…our dying old bird. “Well boys I guess we know how we're are getting to the show! Let’s start packing!”

We packed, drank the last of our beers and decided it was time to head to Philadelphia. Half of our band had to drive separate due to obligations after the show and work the next morning. This was no big deal - Chris and I found it poetic. We had started a lot of bands together and worked on more music than either of us could remember. We had no idea when we would get the chance to drive to preform together again so it made sense to us that the rock gods aligned the stars this way. It was like we were 17 again.

To be continued...

YourFriendMatt

First World Problems...

 "Motherfucker." I said after calmly collecting myself from furiously punching, screaming at and shaking the steering wheel.

Since embarking on our adventure to California we have experienced nothing but car trouble. The SUV we drove from the chilly east coast died almost immediately upon arrival here in sunny California. She served her purpose, got us here safely and then gave up the ghost like a good soldier. It's all I asked of her. We lucked out when our friends Greg and Rick drove my other car out west from Philadelphia giving us another shot at LA traffic bliss...but now we have another problem (see picture above).

My 2004 Ford Focus, with all manual features standard, has been a godsend. She has taken me all over the east coast and now out west to tackle what this terrain has to offer. Sure her ignition sticks and you have to hit the steering column with a hammer every once in a while...sure the radio will just cut out for no reason sometimes ruining your chance at harmonizing the chorus of your favorite song...sure that passenger side mirror has never worked and makes merging a fun game of life or death...but overall...she's a gem. 

When I got the call from Jamie stating she couldn't get the key to turn I thought she was full of shit. We have been through this exact scenario a million times. The ignition just sticks and will get stuck now and then. Once you give the steering column a good love tap with a handy-dandy hammer it loosens up. "Jamie, my cousin who I never see is visiting and we are grabbing a drink. If I leave to travel across town to try and fix this it had better be officially stuck." Immoral words I wished I never used in retrospect. When I arrived at the scene like the knight in shining armor I think I am I arrogantly jumped into the driver's seat. Jamie was in the passenger and looked at me like I was the world's biggest dickhead. Which I am. "We'll be out of here in a minute and then we are heading back to catch my family for a drink." I state as I try to turn the key confidently. Stuck. A worried slightly embarrassed "Haha" Shot out of my mouth. "Uh, must give it a little more muscle." I try again as Jamie's eyebrows cock and a smirk creeped across her face. 

After about an hour of punching, hair pulling, screaming, yelling and explicitly expelling every curse I know (and some I made up) trying to turn the key with no success we decided to call roadside assistance. "Motherfucker." I say under my breath and let out a deep sigh. This thing was like the fucking Sword in the Stone, only the chosen one could get this thing to move. I have no idea how something like this happens. Imagine the key to your car ignition would not turn and get back to me. Don't take it for granted the next time you get in the car to zip off to the mall, corner store or...to grab drinks with your family...which at this point after trying to turn a key for two hours...were surely cancelled.

We called roadside assistance, found the closest Ford service station, found a ride home and were quoted 60 minutes for the tow truck to come get us...which gave us plenty of time to get the car to Ford to be fixed. When we realized we only had 10 minutes to get to the garage and we were still on the side of the road, long past our 60 minute rescue quote time, we got worried. I called the tow company, our insurance company and Ford. No one has ever heard of a "Matt" before. Fucking fantastic. Hearing "Who are you again?" is never a good response. Evidently the fax had never went through from our insurance company to the tow company to come get us. Make sense right? "What the fuck? Who uses a fax in the first place? What the fuck even is a fax?" Echoed in my head, that was currently on fire with fury, when they told me this. 

Jamie told me to calm down as I ferociously confiscated her phone and started dialing all parties numbers. I had our insurance company and tow company on 3 way on my phone and Ford on Jamie's "Mr. Bates we apologize for the inconvenience, Ford has a parking lot you can get the car towed to tonight after hours and they will look at the car first thing in the morning." Said the representative from our insurance company in a monotoned voice. "Uhhh, no we don't" responded the 20 year old valley girl receptionist from Ford. All parties were on speakerphone to hear each other. I stared at the phones, sat for a minute and responded quietly with "Guys. Do you see why I hate you all." Calmly like a serial killer and I paused "None of you have your shit together. Please communicate with each other before you present me a house of lies." My voice escalating. "Get me and my girlfriend off the goddamn side of the road immediately and somebody get my fucking car fixed" Now screaming every word. Another pause and a breath "Please." Trying to force my manners. I am not a total asshole but I think this specific scenario warrants a curse here or there. Jamie was mortified.

At the end of the day the car was finally towed...another hour later. Our tow truck operator Caesar didn't know who we were or where the car was going. We had to make another call to his boss to get it straightened out again...but he was at least a nice guy. I didn't give him shit and we laughed. It's not his fault his company is run by a bunch of motherfuckers. At this point I just gave up...signed the papers...and prayed I would see my car again someday.

YourFriendMatt