On the 2017 tour Secret Chiefs 3 were driving from Montreal to Brooklyn. The occupants in the van were distracted or sleeping due to a late night followed by a long drive day. Joe was behind the wheel. I sat in the back in a hyper aware state as we were heading into and through Rockland County, i.e. my home town. Every bend of the New York State Thruway loudly echoed with memories of countless adolescent automotive adventures.

Due to unexpected GPS directions Joe missed the 13S exit to get on Palisades Parkway South. I saw this error coming but it was too late to change however many lanes and get off. No harm, really, as we soon took exit 13N which has a cloverleaf to get us back on track.

The first petal of the clover swung around towards Palisades Parkway North, and my head flooded with ancient recollections of going up that highway. Like driving back home to New City from long nights hanging out in Manhattan. And going to that secret waterfall. And dreary mornings driving to computer camp where I was a senior counselor that one awful summer. And aiming to hike in Bear Mountain state park. And heading to Binghamton to start another soul-crushing semester. And that one time we attempted to go skiing but the roads were too icy so we turned back around.. and then got into an accident en route home.

The second petal twisted us towards the Thruway going west. A fresh set of memories: Going to Robbie's music in Mahwah, NJ to play with the latest synths - not that I could afford any of them. The shitty daily commute for that one summer job at American NuKem where my car would overheat and I'd have to pull over onto the shoulder every morning to add collant to the engine. Playing "let's get lost in New Jersey" - where we'd wander south into that state-sized maze, taking random turns for hours until sufficiently clueless about our locale (and with no smart phones to help),.. then we'd slowly but surely work our way back home somehow.

The third petal twisted us once more toward the originally planned route, but not before my skull became haunted by the ghosts of Route 59 and the immediate vicinity. Hogan's Diner. A decade of piano lessons with Arthur Cunningham at his magical house in Nyack. The Nanuet Mall. Going to the Rockland Bakery at 2am and plucking bagfuls of fresh kaiser rolls right off the conveyor belts - the foreman would change us a buck, maybe two, depending on his mood. Being all goth and hanging out in the cemetery at night until chased out by the cops. And just beyond that hill over there is my old high school.

"By the way this is my home town," I announced to my bandmates. There was quick, sleepy acknowledgement of this from the others. I closed my eyes for a bit, bracing for the typical madness of a New York City gig.

Google map of the cloverleaf in question (the top one)

Totally True Stories

Cloverleaf