7.20.11 - 7.21.2011
666 Devilchild Part 2
at this point we are all in with Derrick. He has our trailer on his truck with over $10,000 worth of music gear inside, our van in a parking lot in his town, and all of us in his truck.
Not one minute in his truck and he's out of the gate firing…
"So let me give you a little background about myself, I just got out of prison about a month ago…"
Derrick:
At one time, one of the top 4 (high school ?) wrestlers in the country
"I learned to fight really young, my grandfather would send me to Spokane with a one-way ticket, and I'd have to fight for money to get back home."
Gun owner, but prefers hand-to-hand combat
Served in the United States military in Iraq as an army infantryman, was shot just under his arm during his service (lifted shirt to produce scar)
recovering Oxycotin & other prescription pain pill addict
Dirt bike racer & daredevil stuntman, endorsed by the Coca-Cola company. He has a 450cc bike amongst others that he practices with. In August, he will be jumping two adjacent highway overpasses, the police will be shutting down traffic for the event! His racing name is 666 Devilchild.
Is not a racist. "I own a color T.V."
He asks what kind of music we play. I seem to sense everyone gulping and thinking really hard, really fast. We never even went over this. He has a fancy bluetooth stereo in his super truck and wants to hear either our music or something we have on an ipod. "Its, like, rock, y'know"
Evan quickly produces a no-b.s. song from his collection with an edge and a sweet beat to fill the air. We all quietly sigh in relief.
He worked as a roofer for a company that screwed him over, he promised to create his own company and in turn blow them out of the water. This was his current job.
His truck was filled with disassembled picnic tables.
He's punching his turbo throttle, swearing at truckers trying to pass in the right lane, gunning it in his truck, talking about the runaway truck lanes, sinking in the sand, making jokes about our little trailer in the back, always with a quick wit and an edgy sense of humor geared to keep both smiles on our faces and the suspense in the air quite tangible.
He must have smelled our apprehension and desperation, and he ran with it. I wish I had an audio recording of our ride to SLC, he had us laughing the whole time. Something unmistakably charming about his manor, whether it be Coalville swagger, general small-town way with people, or just magic in the man himself. He was an endless well of stories, and had an aggressive "me vs. the world" shell around him that belied his bewildering generosity. He insisted that he didn't care if he got into the show or not, he'd wait outside with the trailer while we played and drive us back to Coalville and our van afterwards. Then he'd put us up in his house, his family is out of town, he has plenty of beds, a shower, and he can help us in our quest to fix the van and get to Boise.
We make it to the venue, he helps us unload, we get in the front door and the bouncer is checking ID's. Not only that, but in crazy Salt Lake fashion he's running our ID's through a scanner to verify them. Derrick is either sneaking in or getting an official exception. Due to the intense scrutiny at the door we decide to plead his case with the bouncer. He says no go, but we can ask the owner when she arrives. Derrick doesn't care a bit. We offer him some cash to get something to eat while he waits, he doesn't want it.
We played at a venue called Deluxe, it was huge!
We loaded in, checked on Derrick here and there, felt bad about him having to wait on the sidewalk, but he insisted & his truck had a movie theater in it, so he could keep entertained.
The show was weird. Hardly anyone was there, but of course, BATTLES was playing elsewhere in SLC, so there was that! X-/
we were all strung out and discombobulated from the craziness of the day, but we played through and began loading out. Derrick helped once again, we said our farewells to the show promoter, whose band we were playing with the next night in Boise. We hopped back in the truck with Derrick, who snorted some snuff and rocketed his turbo sleigh along with our exhausted asses back to Coalville and our van. More stories, more 75mph swerving and truck racing! We get back safely, grab our sleeping bags from the van and head back to Derrick's to crash.
He lives in a nice little house with a huge basement with lots of rooms and a huge entertainment center. He cleans toys off the rug, unfolds a couch bed and takes a mattress out, shows us the bathroom, shower, basically opens his home to us and hooks us up with generous accommodations. We were incredibly lucky to have happened upon him, and we couldn't thank him enough. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't have made the show and we'd be totally lost in an unfamiliar town in the mountains.
We set our alarms for 8, everyone is up early and showered. Evan and I emerge from the basement and have coffee with Derrick.
He tells us about his family, his girlfriend who just broke up with him, not believing in his rehab efforts. They had a beautiful wolf/huskie puppy together that she took and won't let him see anymore. His family is gone for a month or so, his birthday was in June (Gemini… you knew that already, right?) and he's alone for his birthday every year. He takes prescription meds to deal with pain pill withdrawals. He seriously opens up to Evan and I, and I get the feeling we're getting a side of him not many people get to see. He makes us coffee and shows us his 450cc bike that he practices on, this is the bike he'll be making the bike freeway jump with in August. He cranks it up and I videotape him doing a 10' jump off a dirt ramp in his yard.
Now its time to deal with the van. Derrick takes us back to the gas station where it sits, insists that he follow us to a mechanic he knows before he has to be at work around 2ish. The mechanic isn't around, so Derrick pushes the possibility of us taking the cover off the bottom of the crank case off ourselves. I'm ready to hop into action, its all we've got at the moment, and Derrick has tools and apparently a couple of ramps he's welded himself that we can drive the van up on to work under it. We buy a small socket set from NAPA using Derrick's company's discount and I get under the van with a 3/8" socket. We get the case off and we start the van up… NO NOISE! the gear in the crank case has been brushing against the cover all this time! This means we don't have a broken transmission!
We head back to Derrick's house with the van, since he has the ramps, more screws and bolts, and general tools to try and fix the cover so the gear doesn't hit it. We drive it up on the ramps and Brandon & I get underneath to take put all four screws in to secure it properly. It still grinds when we start it up. We take it off again, our hands covered in grease and dirt, all under our nails, dirt falling on our faces. Cb and Evan continue to provide encouragement and support. Derrick is throwing out ideas all over the place.
In the end we work for a couple hours, hammering the case out, putting it back on, still grinding, take it off, space it from the block with washers, put it on, still grinding, take it off, Derrick takes out a hand saw and suggests we cut a big channel in the case where the gear grinds it. He tells Brandon to hold it down while he's holding this saw. I offer Brandon my leather gloves, he's like "here go right ahead!" I'm seeing hands and blood flying everywhere in my head. But this is the whole experience with Derrick. Despite all of your brain's projected disastrous outcomes and cautionary red flags, this is all we've got. And Derrick is so insistent.
I put on my gloves and hold the cover down while Derrick takes the electric saw to it. "Watch your eyes!"
Sparks fly everywhere, I'm squinting but also trying to look closely at my hands, one slip on Derrick's part and I'm missing fingers, maybe a hand. I can feel sparks hitting my face.
He cuts a frankenstein jagged smile into the case and I have all of my fingers on my hands, which are also still attached to my arms. It all happened so fast, I barely had time to reason.
We replace the cover, but AAAHHHH!!!!! its still grinding!!!! WTF!?
So, in the end, we decide to just take it off and search for salvage yards or mechanics further up the road who might have the part. The van runs fine, its just a little dicey having a gear exposed under the body.
Derrick is telling stories about his biking, injuries, apparently he wrecked really bad once and had to get a metal plate in his head, 100's of stitches…
Brandon and I are struggling to take the cover off one last time. I heard Derrick say to Evan, "You like adrenaline rushes?"
Evan: "… huh?… as much as anyone else I suppose…"
The work under the van continues, but EVERYONE is thinking the same thing. Oh SHIT…
Derrick: "Take your glasses off."
Evan, takes glasses off slowly…
D: "Give 'em to him."
E: "oooohhkaaay…" Hands glasses to CB.
D: "I'll be right back!"
CB: "What the fuck did you get yourself into!"
I'm under the van covered in shit trying to get these bolts and washers off thinking Evan is really in for it, whatever it is!
The bike motor starts up, and up rides Derrick!
E: "OH, no, sorry, I'm not doing that."
D: "oh yes you are!"
E: "I don't think so, sorry man"
D: "Look, your trailer is still here, your van is okay, you just have to trust me."
We're all a little terrified for Evan, but really, what choice did he have? I rolled out from under the van, yelled "oohhhhh shiiiiit!" got my iphone and started shooting. Goodbye, Evan. And good luck.
D: "Now wrap your arms around me, hold on tight, and when I say LEAN FORWARD, you better LEAN FORWARD!!!!!"
The motor roars, and off they go. I can hear him in the distance changing gears rapidly, the 450cc bike roaring like a tiger. In the name of the father, the son, espiritu santo….
3 minutes later they're back, and Evan has a huge grin on his face. He dismounts and is speechless, I'm not sure whether he's thrilled, or has a pair of pants full of shit. He's quiet but smiling. A cigarette can't get into his mouth fast enough.
We call it quits with the van, Derrick shows us to the Gojo soap, Brandon and I scrub up, and Derrick hoses our arms off with a garden hose on the side of his house.
D: "Alright, just one thing left. Matt, its your turn!"
I can't refuse. No helmet, my arms wrapped around this 20 yr old's skinny waist, I suddenly feel as fragile as a twig.
Matt: "Where do I put my feet?"
D: "Just let 'em hang."
Me: "Just let 'em hang" I repeat nervously. There was no reason for me to say it. I just felt death watching over my shoulder and the words flew out.
D: "Hold on tight, and when I say lean forward, you better LEAN FORWARD!"
Off we go.
As soon as he has enough road he guns it up the gears, and my thighs lock to the seat! I remember distinctly the feeling of his ribs in between my fingers. My entire 32 years of life in the hands of a 20 yr old daredevil from Coalville. One ill-placed pebble and my brains on the dirt road. Pure adrenaline. We slow briefly to make a left turn and ahead of us lay a long stretch of back road with a highway over pass in the distance. I suddenly realize I hadn't asked Evan what exactly they did or where they went. Are we going to fly over this highway?
The bike lurches forward and its all I can do to clench the seat with my thighs and his body with my arms. I never do hear him say lean forward, but as God is my witness, I am leaning forward. The wind is a big palm forcing my face backwards, the engine is roaring, I simultaneously feel the terror of a complete surrender of control over my life and the blood-curdling exhilaration of ultimate freedom and incredible speed, my mind going blank, my blood flush with adrenaline and white hot like lightning…
We scream down the road to the overpass and bank up the angled side to make a left turn, and then its back up the road once more! My eyes are squinting for the wind, one more rocket blast down the road and it'll be over, so I really lose myself in this run. I know how to ride a bike and really enjoy it, but there's a big difference in being a pilot and a passenger. When you're in control of your own fate you are earning the adrenaline reward with your own skill. Sitting in back, you hang on for dear life. You're not even balancing, you're just weight. Nonetheless, the feeling was like a rollercoaster rush x1000. Super bonus level-up points.
Derrick slows down to take the turn, we bolt down the road his house is on one last time but its brief. we glide into the driveway, and I take an arm off his waist and shout out to Brandon, Cb and Evan, who is videotaping our return. I imagined myself as a badass who just returned from a fighter plane dogfight. If you look at the video, I'm leaned over pitifully hanging on to this dude for dear life like a sac of beans. It's hilarious!
I yell out again with a huge grin on my face and look to Evan for a little mutual understanding of what it feels like to have survived our little wake up call for the morning.
All this before breakfast.
We wrap up, Derrick gives us a bunch of fruit and veggies from his fridge, we can't thank him enough for everything, and we're off, engine sounding smooth as silk…
We find a little diner and sit down for breakfast. I remark, "I think that bike ride permanently altered something in my brain, I feel like a different person…"
I walk to a grocery store and buy some food instead of ordering at the restaurant. When I return, the ghastlies food still hasn't arrived. The waiter is an old retiree whose all smiles and talkin his sweet time. He tells a slow story about a disgruntled customer...
"Being from texas, and pardon my french, we don't pay attention to shit unless we step in it."
