5am brought us a pitch black morning on this long awaited adventure to Treefort Music Fest in Boise, ID, but thank goodness the rain from the night before had stopped. Now we – the Seattle band Friends and Family – would get to see the sunrise over the Cascades in an hour or so as we slowly made our way to the festival we had been so looking forward to. While our drummer and electric guitarist fried up some potatoes and brewed the coffee, our auxiliary percussionist and I stepped out to face the trunk of the Rhino (the Buick Park Avenue sedan that we have grown to love – solid steel, known as the Rhino because it is such a great silver beast). We packed the trunk as full as we could with the tap board, amps, instruments and sleeping bags stuffed into every small space they could find. 

After enjoying a quick meal together, we set out shortly after we received a text message from our other four bandmates who had just left Seattle, but I don’t think any of us could have anticipated what waited four hours down the road. The West was playing on the CD player and we were recalling how much fun we had listening to them at Big Ass Boombox earlier this year. They make you want to dance, their harmonies are lovely and they remind me of The Smiths, so what’s not to love? The drive east is not one I am familiar with beyond Snoqualmie Pass, so every turn brought new beauty with it. It’s a different landscape out here and the sun shines far more often, but I am enjoying the beauty of the scenery and the peace that our drummer Chris and I have found in the front seat – me driving, he in passenger. In about four hours we will be in Boise preparing to play the festival we’ve been dreaming about for so long and the excitement is almost eating us alive! Chris is sipping on some ginger Kombucha and – before I know it – the Rhino is swerving out of control. I tried so hard to gain control of the car, but the beast was beating me and I felt entirely helpless. The car tumbled off the side of the highway and flipped, the airbags went off and we landed right side up at exit 104 on I-84, about halfway between Seattle and Boise.

It probably only took ten seconds, but in those ten seconds my mind was bouncing between fear and concern and confusion. The car was turning and I had no idea what was going to happen. After we came to a stop, I threw open the door and ran from the car. “What just happened?!” I stood in disbelief as Alex crawled from the backseat saying, “That’s not a very nice way to wake me up from a nap.” The Rhino stood there, two tires popped, the top of the car scrunched in one corner, back windshield completely shattered, yet we were all fine. Somehow, four members of Friends & Family had just flipped over in our car and miraculously walked away with just a few scratches and some sore muscles.

What started out as simply a long drive to Treefort quickly turned into a dangerous and terrifying car accident, caused by a brief moment where the tires hit the rumble strip on the side of the interstate. Within minutes, an ambulance and way too many policemen arrived on the scene accompanied by a news crew. My scattered brain continually jumped from making sure that my bandmates were okay, to staring at the poor destroyed Rhino, to trying to figure out what on earth caused this accident, exactly. It took me a while to calm down and that ended up causing a very frustrating interaction with the press, trying to demand that I had fallen asleep at the wheel. If the tunes of The West or the fact that Chris and I had been talking since we left Seattle weren’t so prominent in my mind, then perhaps it would be true. But there was simply no way to fall asleep when the excitement in my heart was propelling me to Boise to play at Treefort. That’s why when our front man, Benjamin Violet, asked me what I wanted to do I didn’t know what he was referring to.

We would play at Treefort…it wasn’t even a question in my mind. I grew up putting on shows. From Bible stories turned into children’s musicals at church to fairy tales turned into backyard productions during summer vacation to musicals at Ballard High School, this show was no different from snowy opening nights or dancing on a twisted ankle: THE SHOW MUST GO ON. Once the other car met us at the scene of the accident, the pieces slowly started to fall into place. Alex Lee and Ben Lewis went away in the ambulance to make sure they were not injured (they are okay now, thankfully). Ben Violet and Nate Rogers went to pick up a rental car. The four of us that remained hopped into police cars and were taken to a nearby gas station where we would put the next pieces of the puzzle together. All that needed to be done now was hand over the Rhino to the tow truck company and let it rest in peace. Unfortunately, the DOL’s system was down and we needed to kill an hour of time before I could get the title for the Rhino. Tired, stressed and in desperate need of distraction, we pulled into the local bowling alley and bowled one game. For one hour I didn’t think about the events of the hours prior and I enjoyed a break from reality. After Nate won the game with 103 points I walked back into the DOL, got the title, handed it over to the tow-truck company, and with that the beloved Rhino was gone and this was behind us.

One car of band members was a couple hours ahead of our rental car, but we pulled into the alley behind The Bouquet in Boise about an hour before we were set to play and reunited in a great big hug, each of us in one piece and ready to go. I opened my violin case, scared to find a collapsed bridge or cracked body, but I laughed because it was perfectly in tune and ready to be played. As it should be…that’s what I came here to do in the first place!  We got into our white and gold costumes, applied our makeup and put on a show. The Bouquet was bustling for a Thursday night and the audience was hungry for a good show and we were playing with energy like never before. Looking out at the audience, a diverse range of ages and stories, I knew that this was the right thing to be doing and the right place to be. If felt so natural to be on that stage and it was where we all needed to be in that moment. With a huge smile on my face, I felt joy to be doing exactly what I want to do with my life. It was a wild ride to get there, but there is nowhere else I would rather be and no one else I would rather be with in that moment.

Three days later, we’re on the road home. I am sitting in the front seat when we pass exit 104 and a sick feeling comes over me. Every hit of the rumble strip makes my heart leap. The tumble replays in my head time and time again and I wonder how on earth we will make it through a tour. I wonder how I will get behind a wheel again, but I keep going back to the way I felt on the stage at the Bouquet. It felt right and I felt joy. Though I am terrified to get back on the road, I look back at the day of our accident and see the way we got up and played a show. We will get on the road again (without the rollover this time, I can only hope) and we will play shows…because that’s how we’re wired.