It comes to the crunch

The guitarist who so impressed me has gone to ground.  He is not on Facebook or LinkedIn.  I don't want to be a pest by emailing him again.  It's nearly a year since we met.

I notice that his band is playing at WOMAD, the World Music festival held in Adelaide in March.  But what chance would I have of speaking to him there?  

Then, a few months later I see his name again, in the Jazz SA newsletter.  He's playing at The Promethean, (a small theatre in the centre of town) on a Sunday afternoon.  I line up early for the show and sit at the front.  First on the program is an ensemble of students.  I find I'm sitting with the parents of one of these young people, who is one of Mike's students.  They tell me what a great teacher he is.

After the break, Mike's group comes on and plays a set of wonderful Latin music.  At the end of the show, Mike is packing up his guitar right in front of me.  I give myself a kick in the backside and go up and introduce myself, reminding him of where we met.  I ask him if he ever accompanies singers.  He asks "Anyone in particular?"  I say "Me, for example".  He delves into his pocket, brings out a card and says "Here's my mobile number.  Call me."

It's as easy as that.  I phone him during the week.  He invites me to his house, five minutes from where I live.  I arrive and he makes coffee.  Mike always starts with coffee, made at a leisurely pace.  He is as serene as I am driven.  He asks me about myself and the music I want to sing.  Then he hauls out his big guitar and says "Let's have a go, then."  I sing, vaguely uncomfortable that we are in his kitchen/dining room, with family members wandering past.  I discover that singing with guitar accompaniment feels very different from singing with piano.  The beat is less pronounced; you have to listen more carefully.  It's chords rather than the melody that a pianist might add.

A few months later, I visit again.  Mike teaches at University, and doesn't have a lot of free time during term.  This time I feel more confident.  I decide to disregard the passing parade, and sing out strongly.  Half-way through our session, Mike slams his palm on the table and says "OK, it sounds really cool.  I'll accompany you.  Invite some friends to your house for a soiree, and we'll play for them."

But the party must wait.  My son is in his final year of high school, and he is having a torrid time.  He needs to study, and he needs my support.

Mike sends me information about events where he is playing.  On a Monday night I drive to a pub where he is playing with a visiting musician.  I'm feeling a bit flat.  I want to drink wine and listen to music so I can feel happy again. 

It's in Thebarton, a suburb that is not far away but unfamiliar to me, and I consult Google Maps to find out how to get there.  

It's a dark and drizzly night.  Driving down a narrow and poorly-lit street, I cannot work out where I am.  Then suddenly the neon sign of the venue winks at me, and I drive purposefully towards it.

Er, what's that bus doing in my window?  

Where did it come from?  The driver gazes down on me with a look of surprise.  As the bus and I jostle in a little samba, it occurs to me that I'll either be OK - or dead.  When my car stops, I wrest open the door and step out, dazed.

The bus driver says "Why you no stop?"

I reply "I was going to stop, over there", pointing at the pub, realizing that I'm now facing away from it.  I'm completely disoriented.  I see the STOP sign where the street widens into an intersection.  The STOP sign that I failed to observe.

I sit down at the side of the road to wait for the police, the fire brigade and the ambulance.  I hear the muffled sounds of music coming from the pub, but I'm going to miss the concert.  My car is mangled and looks like a write-off, but I seem to be unharmed.

Reality sets in as I realize that I've collided with a non-proverbial bus, and am lucky to escape with my life.

It is really serious - I resolve to concentrate better when I am driving.

It gives new meaning to the phrase "Driven to distraction".