Got up, took a nice shower, enjoyed a fine french toast breakfast courtesy of J2, did a little work and hit the road outta Salt Lake City.

A treacherous, treacherous haul. An all day affair, racing through the backroads of Utah’s eastern mountainous flanks. Beautiful, but not the best terrain for making good time. I pushed BIg S real hard today, with an average of somewhere around 83 mph. That’s pretty wild, considering the country I was in. Wide open stretches: Open it up, wide open. Tight stretches: Take my time and focus.

Out of Salt Lake, east on I-80, down through Park City, to somewhere, then out into the nothingness through Price, down to Green Mountain, over to Grand Junction.

But here’s the deal. All that backroad shit added on a ton of miles, twists and turns and whoop-tee-doos. In the end, it was the same haul as if I went from Boise to Aspen. Something like that. The price you gotta pay to see some “never seen” country.

Here’s why I was racing like I was: Those Avett Brothers were playing in Aspen that night, and I’ll be damned if I was gonna miss it. Their newest long player, Emotionalism, has been on the player all summer long, and, well, I’ve got a bad case of the Avett Brothers now. So that was the deal.

So I race all day. At one point in Western Colorado, I remember looking down at the speedometer and kinda freaking out: 93 mph. Hauling balls. Hauling ass. Kinda dumb, when you think about it.

But, there’s some blame to place here, folks: It’s the west’s fault. Shit opens up and you gotta take advantage of the straightaways every now and then.

Okay, so I call ahead. The opener goes on at 9:30pm. The Avett Brothers are set to start at 10:30. I’ve got the mileage worked down to the minute, and estimate my arrival into godforsaken downtown Aspen at 10:40 or so, 10 minutes after they start. That was my best effort, considering the geographic pickle I found myself in.

So I finally roll into Aspen, find the Belly Up, park, secure Gary and head inside. It’s 10:45 or so.

And here’s where shit gets a little cosmic. Just as I’m walking in I remember, “I should give these guys some Field Notes.” So I run back to the rig to grab some. With paper in tow, I head in, and I shit you not, just as I hand my money over, the opening lick of the show starts. Perfect, perfect timing.

That long ass day. Some 600 flustered miles or something…and I walk in just as they start. Cosmic.

Such is the DDC Fall Tour. This time we won.

I’ll post some pics from the show when I get a sec. It was absolutely great, and kicked off this tour something fierce for me. Plus, the show had some trials, considering the fact that ski towns suck. Aspen? Kill me. Bourgeois Apres’ horseshit. Whole town.

But not tonight. Tonight it was made great by those Avett Brothers!

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Meanwhile, somewhere far away, in a big city or something, typographic talent just oozes from this kid. Refreshing.