Krantz chronicle Blue Huey

The 2500$ Fender guitar flew into the forest in 70 mph while the bus kept rolling. Standing devastated on Docksta bar I thought of BB King and his Lucille.

King lost his beloved Gibson guitar during a tour in Sweden. BB got his baby back but it had just been carefully stolen. My B-bender had been sent into the woods in highway speed.

For the ones of you who remember ”Hole in the space shuttle” …It’s happened again.

 

The loading hatch on the Krantz bus flew loose and left a nine square feet hole in the side. We call the buss Blue Huey now. You know the old American choppers with open sides, tricky for enemies to take down and that brought soldiers home.

We are sitting in the bus, remembering when the hot sausage pan eased from the stove in the Finnish night and boiling water splashed all over Gottfrid’s foot so he had to be hospitalized in Jakobstad. How the door window fell out in Västerbotten and drove another 200 miles, windowless. When the stick shift fell off in Haparanda, the exhaust disappeared in Norrköping and when Alfred relieved himself in the bushes outside a preschool in Östergötland while the kids alarmed the teachers. The adult Amazon-women came screaming mid-stream that he should see a psychiatrist.

An elk threw himself under the bus one late fall night in Jämtland and a deer got fronted mid-day in Norbotten. Åke Tjernell shortened the misery of the mutilated animal with a passion stroke  from a hammer while a woman stood screaming bloody murder at him.

I have contemplated fixing the buss’ wounds but it’s impossible.

Every dent, scratch and imperfection is a proof of love of how it has taken us home through thousands of miles and touring during soon one decade.
– You just don’t slab bondo on the scars of Blue Huey.

We came from a Krantz Challenge executed in sunshine in the small town of Gumboda Hed, Västerbotten. Just as we said our goodbyes something in the atmosphere exploded and the rain came pouring down. All electronic equipment was evacuated into the cargo space, the hatch was shut and Blue Huey welcomed us with dry warmth, hot coffee and chocolate vanilla cookies. We dried, zipped coffee and watched the ground turn into small lakes outside the window.

The 610 c.i. motor with 300 horses slowly made its way off the festivity area. We headed south on E4. Three hours later a big bang echoed like canon shot through the entire bus. We stopped. The hatch alongside one side had opened during transit, standing straight out and came off as it hit one of the concrete overpass poles in Docksta. The hatch was on a toll and kept going into oncoming traffic and was run over by three cars. It looked like the annual review of Verizon. A catastrophy. When you thought it couldn’t get worse a sharp Emil Tjernell who had gone for an ocular inspection said:
– One guitar case and a parasol stand is missing from the cargo.

We realized the hatch had opened as Krantz hit the curb in 70 mph and the bus had heeled aside 12 miles north. With a wide open cargo space the guitar went flying out somewhere. Had the guitar been run over? Splintered against a road barrier, “found” and forever gone. Åke stopped a car and hitch-hiked north. Myran started combing through the roadside. A brother-in-law joined the search team by car and the search started along the entire Skule forest. Krantz stayed with the bus, moped around and loaded the dented candy paper of a steel hatch.

The guitar which turned into a life companion, carefully chosen with maple neck and special options – gone.

Pin striped by Samuel Strand, hugged on stage, in rehersal and in livingroom sofa – gone.

An hour pass by. One and a half.

 

Towing and damage report conserning the first car who got a hole in the cooler is secured outside Blue Huey. The cargo space is sealed with straps. The sun sets behind the shoe factory. The gas station is closing.

Then the phone rings. It’s Gottfrid, the one with the Finnish sausage broth.
– We found the guitar in a slope in the woods.
– I don’t dare to ask, I’m just standing fixed and quiet.
– It’s completely unharmed. The case has scratches but the guitar is totally fine. G minor sounds perfect. Everybody is heading back to the bus now.

Well at home there’s a new city to visit in six days on a Saturday. A new hatch had to be produced. An order for lock and hinges from Malmö is made on Monday. The packages has to arrive fast but the postal service drops it off in Örebro (?!) The package finally arrives on Thursday. On Friday the bus is booked for loading and we don’t have a hatch. Ulf Granbom, super sharp universal fixer saves the day and on Saturday we are in this new city with Blue Huey and a red painted hatch.

All is well but how did the story with Alfred and the pissed off kinder garden teachers in Östergötland?

Alfred calmly listened, finished up, shook one time, shook once more, carefully zipped his fly and replied:

– I AM a psychiatrist.