A Shotgun Named Marcus

I remember the moment I first heard Clutch, the song was Big News 1. I rode passenger in Patrick Day's blood red 1970 Chevy Nova, and were cruising down hwy 5 one day after school. I was 16 and, unlike my rebellious counterparts, I conceded that I didn't know everything in the world just yet. But I knew for a fact after that opening baseline that Clutch was going to become the background music to my life.

More on this story after the jump.

So there I was, 16 years young sporting a chelsea haircut and horribly big pants with the passenger side window rolled down.  I smiled big, and poked my head out the window, doing a bad impression of a wind catcher,  as Big News 2 rolled to a epically rocking end. Occasionally I'd check my transparent red pager, furiously deciphering the messages like a Navajo Code Talker. We drove until we needed gas, then we took our time filling up the tank. I remember distinctly hearing Escape from the Prison Planet playing loud as we pulled into a Marathon Gas Station.

I knew the punk kid who worked the counter, I fed him free burgers sometimes cause I worked at the McDonalds across the street. We talked about how shitty our jobs were, but at least we could afford to bitch. We spoke as he rang out other customers, completely oblivious that we were being rude. I
went back out to Pat's car and would get distracted by people I knew along the way. Seemed like in those days you'd always bump into someone you knew, there was always some gossip to spill, and some cute girl to wrestle attention from.

It was Douglasville, and at that time there was no Mall so the only place to go when you got tired of driving around was to Douglasville Billiards. That's where the whole click would eventually end up, everyone cutting up and laughing about something likely only teenagers would find funny. I'd bet all kinds of things on a game of pool, and would usually lose, good thing I had a crap job and pool hall food is cheap. By the end of the school year we'd all be an even match. One guy, I think his name was Shane, would impress us with trick shots. Course we never acted impressed, but we were cause he was damn good at it. I remember Bush was on the juke box, and it was the most modern album in the whole selection, so we played the crap out of it.

Eventually, when it got late and dusk threatened my curfew, Patrick Day drove me home. Behind the backdrop of a lazy teenage day, the Nova's engine roared but overall a quiet stood in the car as social exhaustion had crept in. The stars were aligned for the perfect mood to hear what would become my favorite song for a very long time, SpaceGrass.

                  That's how I came to love Clutch.