Terry and Jeff came by to pick me up at my house around 5:30 p.m. I wasn't expecting them till six, so they caught me hurrying through my final preparations. They realized it would just be more efficient to pick me up ahead of Kenny and Jesse, since Jeff lived a little north of me, and Kenny--I found out--was only about five blocks from me. We all live within about five miles of each other.

The van is a nice, big 2001 Ford 15-passenger Terry rented from Town & Country practically across the street from Kenny. Since rental agencies don't usually prefer a client taking one of their vehicles through more than three states, Terry made sure no one spilled the beans to the rental front desk ladies. "We're headed all over Eastern Oregon," he said. The three ladies were kind of giggly and having a good time with celebrity. We all signed a couple of CDs for them while Jeff and I submitted our drivers licenses for Xeroxing.

We picked up Kenny and headed over to Jesse's house. All his family was helping him get loaded into the van. His 6-year old, Eddie, wanted to know if daddy was going to the airport in the van, not being able to get his little brain around the fact his daddy would be driving over 8,000 miles before returning. Hugs all around and fond goodbyes preceded our entry onto I-84 East.

Traffic wasn't actually too bad for a Tuesday, and we barreled on down the road, stopping at windy Biggs, the traditional crossroads for all touring musicians. We stretched and stocked up on liquids and snacks in anticipation of the 13-hour trek to Salt Lake. We'd be driving all night.