It was 1992. 'Strange But True Rock and Roll' was the subtitle under the band's name, and back in those days we were touring in the Southern parts of the USA in a '79 Ford van, a vehicle which traveled at about eight miles per gallon. In deep foggy Mississippi, we would eventually have to stop to play a low-paying gig in Starkville Mississippi, practicing our songs before an uninterested crowd. The Starkville stop paid for the fuel so that we could make it onward to Oxford, the next college town where we would be ignored for three hours by the crowds who'd gathered for beer specials on Saturday night. The band was called Shindig Shop.

On one particular trip through the wilds of Mississippi, the old van became thirsty again, and we peered ahead down the desolate road hoping to see a filling station-- one of the many thrills of travel in the old gas-guzzler. Finally a little store appeared and we stopped, fueled up and grabbed some snacks from the nervous little lady behind the counter. Life on the road. Truly, as a traveling band we may have looked a little rough; long hair, a long ride, and desperate rock-and-roll faces. We left her alone soon enough, it was still a long way to Starkville and we hit the road.

After ten or fifteen minutes, our accountant/guitarist began looking for the receipt for the van's fattened fuel tank, and asked who had paid for the fuel.

"I thought you did."

We turned the van around in disgust. This was going to cost at least thirty minutes of travel time, and we had been ahead of schedule. We had to go back to pay for the gas, we were not crooks. Back at the store, we pulled up to the side of the pumps, and our long-haired accountant hopped out. Then we all hopped out, and we all went in to explain how we'd forgotten to pay for the fuel. The lady was not behind the counter. We shouted "hello?" into the back, but heard nothing. Then, after a moment, a voice came from the bathroom, weakly seeping under the door, muffled and broken. She was in the restroom. We waited more, then "Hello? We forgot to pay for our gas!" Someone shouted again, and again the poor lady's voice seeped from the restroom, but this time we could hear her say "I'm sick!"

We looked at each other, then one of us yelled towards the bathroom that we would leave the money on the counter, because we had to get going. We waited a few more seconds, and decided that her silence meant 'OK', and we guessed the fuel cost, set her money on the counter as promised, and took off back down the road, having done the right thing.

A few minutes later when the Mississippi Highway Patrol had us pulled over, he agreed that we had done the right thing, and that the lady at the store had become scared when we left without paying, and even more scared when we came back. Terrified, she had called the police.

Everything was cool except that we were now an hour behind schedule, and we had crowds waiting to ignore us down the road-- crowds who were not hip to strange-but-true rock and roll. We didn't learn much, remember to pay for the fuel, I guess?

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Now, please enjoy some comics loosely based on the same events. Loosely based.

SHINDIG SHOP COMICS

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tanks for reading along, all art by me, @therealpaul