Above: Bill Smallwood’s 1954 Scenic Cruiser saw better days as the ultimate set of musician’s wheels. Photo by Phil Houseal
Below: Marc Land's hearse, broken down on the way to a gig in Corpus Christi

webmaster: phil@fullhouseproductions.net

On the road

by Phil Houseal
July 15, 2009

Road musicians and their vehicles - is there any relationship more quirky and dear?

Lord knows most musicians can’t maintain a relationship with any member of the opposite sex. But the bonds we forge with our road vehicles test the strength of Colossus.

This is because while a musician is only involved with his girlfriend, he is committed to his car. That is how he gets back and forth to gigs, his livelihood.

The classic musician’s vehicle is the 1950s era Cadillac. It was the perfect car for any road warrior, especially used ones in the 1960s. They were big. They were flashy. They were cheap. (Actually that describes many musicians’ girlfriends then, too)

Best of all, those Cadillacs had huge trunks. You could fit it your guitar, amp, PA system, and still have room for a change of clothes and the TV from the motel room.

Not that road musicians ever stayed in motels. The back seat was wide enough to make a comfortable bed. After a late gig, you could crawl into the back seat and sleep until the sun made you face your hangover. (You wouldn’t want to try that in the vehicle drummer Marc Land once used - a cherry red Cadillac hearse. But the rollers in back were ideal for loading in the band’s long, heavy speaker columns.)

My personal relationship with cars came after the Cadillac era. My first road machine was a pink 1962 Nash Rambler. Not quite a Caddy, it still had a big back seat and a roomy trunk. It was not the most reliable auto though. When I drove it back to Iowa from my first road gig in Colorado, it broke down 40 miles from home. I was ignominiously towed from Sigourney to Wellman chained behind my dad’s pickup truck. But it carried two drum sets and 10 cases of Coors beer.

I struck out on my next adventure in a 1968 Ford station wagon. This handled all my gear, with room for sleeping in KOAs along the way. Later I downsized to a Mazda GLC hatchback. I got better gas mileage (it was during the 70s oil crisis), and I became rather creative in fitting my drum set into the back. I could also carry a bass amp, with enough room left for a girlfriend (if I’d had one).

But this is all digression. To really understand the relationship between a musician and his vehicle, you must go to the fount of automotive wisdom. That would be Bill Smallwood.

When I first met Smallwood, he was a full-time road musician pretty much living in his 1967 blue Chevy van. Unremarkable, until you consider he also carried all of his band’s equipment in that van. It becomes the 8th Wonder on Wheels when you add that he lived in the van with his wife, Sandy, and son, Willy.

For the first 12 years of his life, it was the only home Willy knew. When the van was packed after each gig, Smallwood always left a small corner behind the driver’s seat for Willy to sleep in while they drove to the next gig. Willy was the last piece of equipment packed. Willy was so attached to that blue Chevy, he cried when the Smallwoods finally moved into a real house.

Smallwood kept playing, and eventually traveled in a 1954 Scenic Cruiser (you can still see it parked at Banker Smith, but that is another column).

We musicians felt toward our cars the way those movie cowboys felt about their horses. Without wheels, we were just guys who played instruments. But rolling across the United States hauling our Fenders and Ludwigs, we were musicians on a mission!

One of the most valuable assets I gained from two years on the road was learning how to take care of a car. I learned to change oil every 10,000 miles, how to throw away a clogged air filter, and how to set the gap in a spark plug using matchbook covers. I could drive for days on a spare tire, rotate wipers so I only had to buy one at a time, and cover warning lights with electrical tape. It was a good life.

But it’s all gone. Today’s musicians drive to gigs in buses and SUVs, pulling fancy trailors with their names stenciled on the sides. They sleep in fancy hotels and never stay at the KOA.

They probably don’t even know how to siphon gas.