It was March 2001 and we were coming back from Louisville. I don’t know where the heck it was. Indiana, Illinois, maybe Missouri. Todd Spencer was driving and we had followed Jim Johnston (who was driving his pickup truck and big horse trailer full of booth stuff) and the others all the way from Louisville. Jim had been talking all night to truckers on the CB. In our car, we listened to Truckin’ Bozo and Todd tried to call a couple of times but it was busy. We pulled into a small convenience store somewhere off the highway to get coffee and stretch our legs. It was pitch black, cold and windy and the harsh light of the little white concrete block store hurt our eyes. We pulled back on the highway and past a big yellow lighted sign with black letters that said, “Good luck Hornettes.” Yep, spelled just like that.
I thought to myself, “This is pretty good.”