Coming Home

From the lounge at Halifax Airport I cans see them loading the big bird that’s going to fly me home. It plays like a movie with my I Pod playing rich strings and anthems. Somewhere out there a bag handler is loading my guitar under a  yellow siren light into the belly of the plane (with care I have no doubt) and we are coming back to be present at a game of Rugby. This has been yet another wonderful tour of Canada and a nice hop into Obama land.Yesterday, on my way to play the final show of this Canadian tour, time stood still on the highway between New Glasgow and Fall River. Heavy rain made the road treacherous and disguised the ice. Suddenly my car, travelling around 70mph, decided to dance and twist around the two lanes of road. Five times we waltzed and I knew there was a big partner who might want to join in behind me. A huge truck had been in my mirror; I didn’t know where it was now. As I spinned time seemed to slow and I felt no great panic, I was simply awaiting the outcome, I thought there would be some big punch but it never came. My car ended in a snow bank facing the wrong way and I still had the can of coke in my hand though it was now crushed. A nice guy stopped to see if I was ok. The truck driver didn’t seem to care. With the exhaust and a few more items hanging down or off I eventually drove on and made the show and played. It was all a bit surreal but when I consider the amount of miles I have driven to play music in the last 27 years I have been fortunate that this has been my only real big incident thus far. Folk pay a lot of money for that sort of ride in Disneyland but it wasn’t much fun. How tenuous it all is. It will be good to be home.