Ryan Hilligoss, June 2, 2025

“Not all that is to be learned can be taught in the classroom, and so we take to the open road.” Douglas Brinkley, The Magic Bus

Have you ever stopped to consider how many miles you have driven, ridden in a car or trains, flown in an airplane, or walked? I’ve done some rough calculations based on the vehicles I have owned or used for work: I’m close to three million miles driven and another two million riding, flying and walking. Now I am considering all the possible things I could have done with that time: earned a medical degree, learned seven languages proficiently, read most of the Western Civilization canon, learned stand up comedy and maybe written the novel that’s been bouncing around in my head for the last 10 years. I came by it honestly, having ridden with my mom and dad countless times, short and long distances starting with the ride home from Springfield Hospital to my first home near Lake Springfield back in 1974. Our family moved to downstate Alton, Il in the summer of 1977. Mom drove us back and forth to Springfield to see our grandparents and aunt countless times, 90 miles each way back and forth. Dad’s family moved to Phoenix in 1970 and we drove the 3,000 mile roundtrip several times when I was younger. The town names mentioned in Route 66 popularized by Nat King Cole and Chuck Berry are etched in my mind with memories of dusty trips long ago: Joplin, Mo, Oklahoma City, Amarillo, Gallup, New Mexico and Flagstaff Arizona.

So it’s not shocking that I have done the same with my kids Graham and Rory during their lives. Living in northern Illinois and having family down state has led to countless trips over 20 years with the kids in tow, strapped in their car seats playing with toys, watching countless movies on 12 inch portable DVD players, sleeping and watching the corn fields roll by with fruit puffs and Cheerios under their feet. The miles and years have rolled by and now my kids are 20 and 19 years old, both on their way to becoming the adults they will be, hopefully taking the good things they’ve learned and experienced and leaving the bad behind where they belong.

It was kismet recently when Graham called me to ask if I wanted to go to Amherst, Mass to see one of his favorite bands, Have A Nice Life, play a show in the small college club they first played 25 years ago when they got started. Well……three things:

1. The date of the show was the day after a golf fundraiser event I had signed up to attend in New Jersey for a friend of mine. Four golfers were needed for the scramble and I’ll be damned, I still needed a fourth. Who better than Graham who is a much better golfer than I’ll ever be. Two fathers playing with two sons in honor of another son and father.
2. After having taken Graham and Rory to see many concerts over the years including Ringo Starr, Beatles tribute artists, Jimmy Buffet and Bruce Springsteen, this was the first time he had asked me to take him to see a band he liked.
3. After having travelled many times to see bands I love, who was I to say no to such a request.

An agreement was quickly determined. If he would play golf with us on Wednesday somewhere in the swamps of Jersey, I would get him to Amherst for the show on Thursday. Airline tickets were secured, concert tickets were in hand ($30 a piece, what a bargain!!!!), accommodations were arranged with friends, a small gathering was planned with local friends for one evening and interesting stops were plotted out along the way. As the date drew close, Graham closely watched the havoc occurring everyday at our flight destination, Newark International Airport. The radar and communications system went down and back up frequently, communications with planes were lost for 90 seconds at a time, and near misses between planes on the runways. Phone calls were made and a decision was made: ixnay on the airways and let’s take to the open road. Instead of flying to New Jersey, renting a car and driving up to Massachusetts and back to Newark, we would drive from Illinois through Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut and Massachusetts and back again. 850 miles from Illinois to northern Jersey, 200 miles to Amherst and 1,000 miles back around with a stop in Cleveland, Ohio.

Things we learned along the way:

-Never eat a Denny’s attached to a Flying J outside of Dayton, Ohio under any circumstances, and according to Graham, never eat at Denny’s…period….no matter where you are

-Driving hundreds of miles in the rain is stressful and not enjoyable. Driving through rain for 5 straight days is unbearable even for an experienced driver

• Driving in New Jersey is an experience for first timers. Is this one giant lane or two lanes and where should I be driving?
• New Jersey is the only state in the Union where you do not pump your own gas.
• Wawa is a weird name for a convenience store chain but has the best soft pretzels in the world
• Graham is not a fan of the processed ham product known as Taylor Ham/pork roll depending on where you are from…too salty…and he doesn’t don’t care if Mick Jagger has a sandwich named after him featuring ham, egg and cheese on a Kaiser roll
• There is no statue of Lebron James in downtown Cleveland despite what google says…I repeat…no statue of Lebron James…yet

• Downtown Cleveland is beautiful at night despite the swarm of insects called midges along the lake and the perimeter of The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
• If you want decent Mexican food, do not go to a neo Mexican restaurant and order shrimp and grits.

Leaving north Jersey on the Garden State Parkway, it’s one large metro area, one town after another passing by, skirting New York to the east. It’s mid morning on a Thursday so traffic is bearable as we crossed the Hudson on the Tappanzee bridge, passing an exit for Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown just north of the city with Manhattan way off in the southern horizon. We drive through parts of Connecticut, see the skyline of Hartford and into western Massachusetts with it’s thick vegetation and leafy neighborhoods. We check into the hotel for the night, have dinner at Chipotle and head into Amherst which is a nice, quiet college town with three bookstores within 2 blocks of each other, churches, a town square and students walking in the cold rain.

The venue is a small club near campus. We drive by looking for parking and see 50 people lined up anxiously waiting to get in. I tell Graham if we crank up the band’s Earth Mover song and slowly drive by, it will give some good mojo and they might play it for the first time in years. He gives me the skunk eye and says, “Don’t you dare.” Have A Nice Life has released a handful of albums, had a nice career and plays to 5,000-10,000 fans at shows and festivals. Tonight is very different. Two friends met in college, started a band, wrote songs and recorded an album and started a 25 year career. Tonight they are back home where it all started, in a small, dark club with capacity for 250 fans. We park and walk a few blocks in the rain. The bouncer at the door gives me an over 21 yellow wrist band without even looking at my ID…..hey!!!! There’s a chance I’m not of age. No wrist band for Graham, two months shy of his 21st birthday. The club has a low ceiling, dark lighting, couches ring the entry area and outer wall near the bar. I’m not the oldest person in the place but close to it.

Up front a small stage holds the equipment, maybe a 10×20 stage with a large screen behind the drum kit. Crippling Alcoholism, the opening band comes out, a singer, bass, guitar and drums. About 50 fans crowd the front edge of the stage. I put my ear plugs in and can’t understand a word being sung. An abstract, Ralph Steadman like drawing is on the screen while the singer screams in agony. Agony of what I don’t know but he’s in pain, whether physical or emotional, and so am I. The opener is thankfully done after 6 songs and Graham takes his merch out to our car with one last request, “Let me know when they are coming on.” The opening act gets their gear off stage quickly and HANL members get theirs on just as fast. This is a special show on their home turf before heading to Europe for a run of festival shows. The band wastes no time in getting ready: drums, bass, two guitars, keyboard and percussionist assemble with another person running the visuals on the screen. The band assembles quickly and I call Graham telling him to move his ass. The club is at capacity but there is plenty of room so I drift to the back to give the real fans space up front which gives me the opportunity to listen and watch from a safe distance.

As a child and young man, I was very fortunate to have parents and older brothers who loved music and took me to see many concerts big and small. They opened my eyes and ears to all kinds of music, some I liked immediately, while some took me a while to appreciate: Neil Diamond, ZZ Top, Springsteen, Barry Manilow, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, Wayne Newton, yes, that Wayne Newton, thanks to my aunt Glenda. From there I ran with it and developed my own tastes in music that have grown into jazz, country, Americana, southern rock, R&B, old school rock and roll, gospel and everything in between. Not that there is a need for any band to be labeled or pigeon holed but my own description of Have a Nice Life is heavy rock, David Bowie experimental space age, prog rock, heavy synth, etc. Graham advised me to listen to their first album Death Consciousness prior to the show. I hear touches of Bowie, James, Smashing Pumpkins and others but it’s their own sound and style. I look around and see the joy and appreciation on the fans faces. Graham stands by me for a time but then makes his way up close to the stage where he almost takes a boot to the face from a passing crowd surfer. Every time the singer leans into the crowd, people grab at him, touching his head and yanking on his t shirt. The lead singer has a headache and in a touching moment, asks his wife to bring him two Advil from the front pocket of his backpack.

The music is not something I would have found on my own, but I like it and will listen more and take it all in on my own in time. What brings me joy is seeing the faces of the crowd, including my son, as the band launches into the finale, a song called Earth Mover which they apparently haven’t played live for some time. The small club, the fans, the rarity reminds me that this is what it must have been like for Springsteen fans to see him and the E Street Band back in the day in small clubs or what it would be like for them to play at the Upstage in Asbury Park and play Lost In The Flood or Wild Billy’s Circus Story in an intimate setting.

The lead singer is done for the night as he wraps a towel around his neck and heads to the back room. The guitar player shakes hands with the fans and takes a picture of the crowd. He turns to the curtain in back, pleading with the leaders to come back out for one more song. It is not to be. The lights and house music come up signaling their night is over, a second show follows Friday night. The crowd trickles out buzzing with chatter. The bass player who minutes ago was dripping with sweat as he bounced around the stage for 90 minutes is leaning back against the wall smoking a cigarette and asking the people nearby where they are from. He looks like Rainn Wilson, Dwight from The Office, in a heavy beard and army jacket. Fans walk by unaware that moments ago this same guy was bouncing side to side on stage.

We walk into the dark, rainy night, find our car and drive back to the hotel. I’ve driven a million miles with Graham in the backseat, me looking at him grow up over the years through a narrow rear view mirror. The years and miles roll by and my baby boy has turned into a strong, intelligent, kind, caring and determined young man with a wide open road in his future. The music may change, but the beat and rhythm are steady, The story remains the same. Whether it’s my parents listening to Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, Neil Diamond or me listening to Bruce, Chris Stapleton, and Jason Isbell , or Rory listening to Harry Styles and Bob Marley or Graham listening to Have a Nice Life, the draw of the beat and the words of the singer are constant. The years and miles roll by, the name of the bands may change but the music plays on, the song remains and the road goes on forever.