In the mid-nineties I was rear-ended by a semi truck and my bass got smashed beyond repair. At the emergency room, they thought my neck might be broken and when a doctor ﬁnally came in to see me, I was weeping. He said “What’s wrong? Are you worried about your potentially debilitating injuries?” “My bass got smashed!” I wailed
In the summer of 1975, my bass and I had to go to North Carolina for Eastern Music Festival. We ﬂew on Eastern Airlines. My parents bought a half-price ticket for the bass so that it could sit in a seat.