Sanctus Real

A few months ago Sanctus Real made a milestone purchase; we bought our very first bus; a 99 Prevost. It’s a dark shade of bluish-green or greenish-blue and we named it “Full Moon Fever” because we love Tom Petty and want him to be proud of us. We learned later on that it was once owned by a popular Canadian band with a song about what they’d do if they had a million dollars. They also “made you say underwear.”

It has a front lounge with comfortable seating, fitted with grandma-esque fabric, a small kitchen for microwaving EasyMac, and a bathroom for going #1 only. It has a lounge in the back too with the same seating and some closetspace. The middle of the bus is comprised of 12 bunks, stacked 3 high, 6 on each side, and separated by a narrow hallway running through the middle. There are no windows in this section, so it’s pitch black when the lights are off. It’s a lot like a cave, I imagine. When I crawl into my bunk at night, the background wash of white noise from the engine and the tender sway of the bus sailing down the open road rocks me right out of consciousness. Everyone once in awhile, someone will complain of feeling claustrophobic in the bunk area, but by and large, you’ll only hear people say it’s the best sleep they ever get.

This morning I was jolted awake (as “jolted” as you can be when you’re practically in a coma) with panic when, by no control of my own, I started sliding out of the bunk toward the ground. Half asleep, I braced myself against the mattress and bunk above me as I felt our 65-foot, 16-ton rig fishtailing at 70 mph. Who would’ve thought such heavy machinery would be so terrifying when it haphazardly sways from side to side? I heard unfamiliar noises outside, like howling and whistling, or scraping and breaking. The cave is great for sleeping, not so much for unseen danger like flipping in a ditch, rolling down a mountain or cliff or waterfall or whatever perilous terrain is outside. There aren’t seatbelts either.

I felt the vibration of rumble strips and groggily wondered if we were slowing down to safety or about to drive off the Grand Canyon. This heightened my sense of urgency enough to begin praying for our driver to have strength and a steady hand. I didn’t want to die yet. The bus slowed to a halt.

“Thank you Jesus,” I’m sure all 12 of us said at once.

A few minutes later, I walk out to the lounge to find Chris, Pete, Kurt the road manager, and Stephanie the driver, looking up towing companies.

“What happened?” I ask.

“You should open the door and look outside,” Chris says.

I didn’t know what exactly to expect. Just bad news, I guess. I walked outside and in the foreground I saw Full Moon Fever in all its reverie, but nothing wrong. I looked further back toward the horizon and realized that the trailer I thought was supposed to be attached to the bus was half buried in a pile of dirt 50 yards back.

Hmmm.

To make the long story short, the steel on the hitch snapped off like the tab on a Coca-Cola can. The trailer dragged along behind us, dangling from safety chains, until it eventually broke loose and skidded off the road, crashing into the dirt.

Praise God it went off the road instead of going left into traffic!  It didn’t even hit the road sign (take that Murphy’s Law).

The Winslow, AZ police dispatched an officer to come help us out. For the most part they helped a great deal. They called a truck with a winch to pull the trailer out and helped us get all the pieces over to a tire shop for repairs.
Then they gave Stephanie a $200 citation for “faulty equipment.”

“Could be the bumpy road that caused it, or it could be your trailer is overweight,” he said.

The trailer is far, far, far from being overweight.

At the tire shop, a Lieutenant arrived. He was nice. His kids like our band. We tried to give him a CD to take them, but he said he wasn’t allowed. We signed a piece of paper for them instead. Stephanie asked if he could get rid of the citation. Apparently he couldn’t. The best he could do was write a letter to the judge.
Amazingly, the trailer and bus were both completely fine. The gear is packed tight and should be safe too. So it’s about 9am now, and we’re back on our way, albeit a little late.
If you’re coming to the show tonight in Chandler, AZ, we can’t wait to see you. It’s been an adventurous morning, but the show must go on!

dan