It was over a decade ago, when I was barely of legal age to gain entry into a bar, that I used to frequent a small, smoky bar in my native Long Island, NY, and used to catch the house band that played every Monday night. The house band was a blues, funk, and roots-rock outfit that played a wide array of music, and was known for the stellar musical prowess of its members. Anchoring this band was lead guitar player and singer / songwriter Andy Falco, whose slick bluesy electric guitar solos were an oft anticipated segment of each song.
The dusty road leads to an unseen location. Clouds of dirt and earthy grime pass through the air. As the dust settles and the road becomes steeper, Horning’s Hideout comes into view. “Happy Horning’s,” comes a chipper voice from my right. My window is rolled down and I turn to see a girl standing on the side of the road. She wears a neon-green shirt that reads “Volunteer”.
“Where should I park?” I ask her.
“Just keep driving,” she says with a devious smile. “You’ll find the way.”
I grinned and waved and continued down the rocky hill.