I figure our band got its start the way most bands do. 

One of my roommates had his guitar out, and the rest of us filed into his room demanding a live show. He played every song we requested – for more than an hour.

Jon kept interrupting Scott’s musicianship by reminding us all that he used to have a bass guitar in high school. 

“It was brown — no!  It was cream. With a fret board like Scott’s. My bass, that is.”

I scoffed, not only because Jon seemed to be lying, but because I spent years preparing myself for this type of bragging. I’ve mastered two legendary instruments of rock.

The piano and the trombone.

The only logical thing to do now was to form a group.

“I’ll just be the manager,” the last guy, Chad, decided. He only played the trumpet. In seventh grade. The rest of us would be music gods.

As a new and momentarily unknown band, though, we’d first have to get ourselves heard. And the best way to do that?

Hit the road.