Unless you count the untold dozens of dollars most bands pay themselves, the biggest expense by far is travel. It is daunting enough to move a solo or duo act from home 20 miles to Point A and then 20 more miles to Point B while ensuring that everyone arrives on time properly fed and in good shape to play well, but to move a six-piece band with about 16 instruments and a full drum kit, a PA capable of playing to up to 10,000 people, monitors, and assorted ancillary equipment, across just a few state lines is an exercise in planning where the only rule is “planning is futile.” Expenses easily doubled for each additional vehicle, and it was critical to ensure that all vehicles always had someone in good non-sleepy shape to drive. “Non-sleepy shape” was difficult to ensure when everyone had to sleep sitting up for hundreds of miles. Time margins between shows seldom allowed for more than a day if that for downtime, so the imperative was always to keep moving. By the late 1970s California Zephyr was playing about 250 shows per year primarily in California, some involving 300-mile journeys there and home in the same 24-hour period. It would be nice if bookings permitted a looser schedule, but one can’t wish for that and for a reasonable living in the same breath, at least until the first “hit” happens, probably not even then. So, as interstate travel became more frequent, we looked to acquire that most iconic of traveling band accoutrements, a bus.
Our first foray into the world of bus transportation was to acquire an old white transit bus with a two-speed automatic transmission, governed never to exceed 50 mph. Because of the shortcomings and unreliability of that bus, which failed us at the beginning of a spring 1978 Rocky Mountain states tour and again at the beginning of an autumn 1978 Pacific Northwest tour, we returned quickly to automobiles, pickup trucks, and for long hauls we rented recreation vehicles. And that’s all I’ll say about that bus (the emotional wounds still haven’t healed). Then, we purchased a much more worthy bus, a GMC 4104 highway bus with the time-honored workhorse 671 GMC engine and Alison 4-speed manual transmission, governed to never exceed 78 mph. It had been a Greyhound bus from the 1950s up to the mid-1960s, and the broker who found it for us believed that it had about one million miles and likely several engine rebuilds in its history. The broker reeled off previous brokeredsuccessful purchases, with an explanation of bus reality, and by comparison with other brokered purchases this bus sounded young and spry, and a great investment. And so it proved to be over the next several years. The exterior was a lovely art-deco brushed aluminum (Photo 1), and upon delivery the interior was without seats. We used our collective carpentry skills to outfit the interior with eight bunks and a kitchen, and we had the band’s name painted on the sides. Soon the bus was ready to transport our six-piece band, our sound engineer, and an occasional roadie throughout the USA. At last, we could travelin comfort and join a rarefied group in the music business: the road band.
The first challenge with the new bus was to select which members of the entourage would drive the 12-ton, 36-foot-longvehicle, on the road, in town, anywhere that cars could go, always being mindful of the destructive potential of this road vehicle. Four of us volunteered (including me), which worked out well because our rule had always been to schedule 4-hour driving shifts, always with a “shotgun” rider alongside the driver. With four drivers we could travel 16 hours (~900 miles) before rotating back to the first driver, and with those nice bunk beds sleep was no longer a problem. At that rate, we needed just over three days to travel across the US, which quickly expanded our travel range and enabled us to book more widespread performances, soon enough over most of the US and Canada.
Driving the bus was much simpler than I thought it would be—it had the 4-speed transmission, a huge flat steering wheel, good brakes, and pretty good acceleration (if you gave it the time it needed). It was very much like driving an enormously long Volkswagen ‘bus” from the 1960s, with which I was already well-experienced. The major difference was that the 4104 required double-clutching for all gear changes other than into first or reverse. Obviously, the driver needed to pull way out into intersections to turn, and again all drivers and shotguns must always remember the havoc that such a beast could wreak and drive accordingly. In the several years that we used that bus no such terrible thing ever happened, but we had to cope with a few trucks that jackknifed on icy freeways right in front of us. We logged about 450,000 miles on the bus before we finally parted ways.
I’d like to be able to write that the 4104 never caused us any grief, breakdown-wise, but that would be an untruth. One day in Toledo I was driving (in first gear, thank goodness) down a hill and when I tapped my brakes, they proved to be unavailable. Fortunately, the reason was that the brake shoe anchors had loosened, not that the air tanks that powered the brakes (and the horn and the fuel shutoff valve to the engine) had leaked out. The tanks were still full, and I was able to use the air to shut down the engine in first gear and to sound the horn repeatedly so that the UPS driver at the bottom of the hill took note of the situation and skedaddled. I also used the “ICC brake” which was a lever that locked up the rear brake shoes with cables rather than air, which truly did save the day. That incident necessitated a six-hour pause at a local diesel shop, and we just made the gig which was 300 miles north in Michigan.
I could tell a few tales of breakdowns and repairs, but I really want to introduce you to Grover Perry. Grover was a 1930s-1970s bus guru who had been the head mechanic for Trailwaysand others. After retiring from Trailways, Grover opened the Perry Bus and Truck Service garage alongside a rail yard in Kansas City (KS). Another band at a fairs showcase told us about Grover, and soon we journeyed to KC to meet him. Everyone who needs peerless, flawless, totally dependable, and freely offered advice on something arcane needs to know someone like Grover. His in-depth knowledge of the tiniest systems on that bus was incredible. As I assumed the mantle of responsibility for the ongoing health and life support for the bus, I got to know Grover very well. Was air leaking from a tiny diaphragm under the driver’s seat? Grover knew the fault, knew the part to be replaced, knew the needed tools, knew how to replace it. But the best part was that he would give all this advice while I was alternating being under the driver’s seat and being on the (pay) phone with Grover who was1500 miles away in Kansas City. Need a part that only Grover might (i.e., always did) have? No problem. Grover would pack it up, take it to the nearby Greyhound station, and ship it by bus to wherever the band was. I usually had the part later that day or very early the next day, and thanks to Grover, we never missed a gig.
In fact, breakdowns, usually in the form of brief pauses, were very infrequent in the 4104, and I always rose to the challenge quickly (Photo 2). However, the incident that I will never forgetwas that we lost the ability to use the clutch to shift gears east ofFlagstaff on our way to gigs in the eastern US, an inconveniencethat happened during an especially cold January in1982. We were able to use second gear after warming up the engine and then killing it so that we could shift (without the clutch) into second, start the bus in gear, and be on our way, up- and down-shifting by “feel” rather than with a failing clutch linkage. That’s obviously a short-term solution that could also damage the drive train if not done precisely, yet we did that successfully for three weeks before we could get to Kansas City. Grover diagnosed a broken clutch linkage on the transmission, andrecommended replacing the broken linkage, the clutch plate, the clutch pressure plate, the clutch throw-out bearing, and the flywheel–his experience was that all of those components were likely to be worn unevenly and if we didn’t do that job, one unpredictable but inevitable day soon we wouldn’t be able to drive the bus at all. Those replacements entailed removing the transmission, a 1000+ pound hunk of metal about ¾ as large as a typical office desk. Grover gave detailed instructions, but he never participated in the work—for that we were on our own. By then he was quite elderly, so I understood completely (now that I’m also elderly I understand it even more). Grover provided an engine chain hoist to remove the transmission, and he provided the very expensive parts that I needed. I worked mostly alone on the entire job because the working space for the large parts replacements only accommodated one small person. I remember vividly lying on my back on six+ inches of solid ice, under the bus, with the drive shaft of significant mass lying on my chest. The shaft had to come out to remove the transmission, as noted, a challenging job, especially in the cold. Wiggling out from under the drive shaft was also memorable, not in a good way. But, in less than a day (spread over an afternoon and the next morning) I replaced all the components and remounted the transmission so that all was functional in the gear shifting system by noon. Grover proved to be correct—the clutch plate and flywheel were burned, and the pressure plate had lost a couple of large springs. We were ready to leave that afternoon, and I and the band’s “money man” went to Grover’s office to settle. The operative question was of course “how much do we owe you?” I knew that the components I replaced cost about $5000 in normal circles (the flywheel alone was listed for about $2800), but when we asked, Grover replied “Well, how much do you have on you?” Grover cared less about the costs of parts than about the initiative, resourcefulness, and persistence we had shown in doing a very challenging job in challenging weather. We interim-settled for what we had available after the costs of upcoming travel, feeding the band, etcetera, which was about $1000 (gig payouts were handled by our San Francisco office when the tour was done). Grover accepted this amount, along with our promise to pay the balance ($500!) when we returned home, and we were soon on our way. Again, you should always try to know and be on good terms with someone like Grover Perry.
Helpful, interested folks like Grover Perry made all the difference in our travels, pretty much wherever we went. Our road experience mostly included very happy and satisfying gigs, very few negative incidents, along with occasional amusing interludes: county fair impresario: “the flying chickens don’t amount to much, but the jumping mules, now they’re really something!” Over ten years we played for over one million people across 48 states and southern Canada, we opened for many country and a few rock stars, we played often with the great Rose Maddox, and we headlined quite a few shows across the USA. Playing our music for the people was its own and greatest reward, in my opinion the only good reason for being in the music business. I would never trade my time as a road musician for any other experience I’ve had or that I can imagine.
After California Zephyr had traveled for about a decade, we agreed that even though we were often making a decent living and supporting our families, the strain of our frequent absences had taken its toll on us and especially on our families. From 1987 onward we largely retired from the road and instead did studio work and played sporadic shows in California, and I remained with California Zephyr until 1999. We parted ways on excellent terms, and I played occasional dates with the band all the way to 2019, with a reunion concert in Modesto coming up in May 2025.
Repairing the coolant system on the 4104 at Grover Perry’s place in Kansas City. Photo bomb by Steve O’Neill (bass player in California Zephyr for several years). Photo, definitely Alan Arnopole.
Since 1987, I’ve made my mark as a scientist and I wouldn’t trade that experience either—I’ve earned a good reputation, published some high-impact scientific papers (as recently as mid-December 2024), written a few book chapters, presented papers at many conferences. I’ve been very fortunate to have enjoyed both careers, but I also know that thanks to the enduring support of Terri Barry (my spouse of 45+ years), and my wonderful family, my two careers have been far more than just worthwhile. I have no regrets, but I do have some wonderful memories. I wish both for everyone.
Acknowledgement: I thank Alan Arnopole of California Zephyr (still, after 50 years!) for helpful discussion and insights regarding those long-ago events.
