Story Behind the Song: Brand New Car

Brand New Car

I can still remember the first time I saw it.  I was coming out of a piano lesson in downtown Durango, heading for my truck, and I heard someone at a very unfurtive volume go, “psssssst.”  This was a common way for people in my family to get someone’s attention, so I knew immediately it was either my dad or my brother, and I spun around.  I was not prepared for what I saw.  For months, my little brother had been on the hunt for a “new” used car.  His history of vehicle ownership began with borrowing my parent’s 1979 GMC Sierra, which we lovingly called “The Tank,” a little blue 1983-ish Chevy Nova that used to belong to my grandparents that he called the “Tin Cup,” and later the “Accordion Car” when he was rear-ended in an accident, and a golden-hued 1996 Toyota Camry he bought from my mom when she upgraded that he had called “Golden Eye,” but which was older and needing serious repairs.  When he announced he was looking for a new car, we were all sending him links to newer cars, like a 2001 Honda Civic, I saw a 2003 Acura that he said was out of his price range for the age of the car, Dad found a Suburu for around $2500, you get the gist.  So, I did not expect to twirl around and see him sitting in a 2008 Honda Accord, white, sleek, leather seats, with the tinted window rolled down halfway, him peering out from behind the steering wheel with his sunglasses cocked, and the biggest smile on his face.  “Pretty sweet, huh,” he said as I approached, kind of incredulous.  I thought at first he must be borrowing it– nobody in my family had ever owned a car with fewer than 100,000 miles on it, less than five years old, so there was no way my 23-year-old little brother pulled this off.  But he had.  He was working for a bank at the time, and was able to secure a loan for the car, with payments he could manage.  Being the older, wiser sister, I asked him about his payments, and how much it cost, and in true Tyler Black style, he said, “None of your business.”  My brother was secretive like that.  I was happy he was happy.

White Lightning, a.k.a. Hank the Honda

He took me out on a county road near my parent’s house shortly after that.  He named it “White Lightning,” because it seemed so sleek and fast compared to the other cars we had all owned, and he liked those cultural references too. He wouldn’t let me drive, but he loved showing it off.  It was just a four-cylinder Accord, but the technology difference between it and my 1997 4-cylinder Accord made it seem like it was flying.  There were sooo many buttons on the dash.  I felt like I was in an airplane.  He was so proud that he had the nicest car in the family, and I was proud of him for figuring out how to get what he wanted.  A few months later, we were living in the same neighborhood and heading to a mutual friend’s wedding, and he picked me up to carpool.  He looked so grown up in a button down shirt, tie, slacks, and a jacket.  I commented on how well he cleans up, and he kind of scowled and said, “It’s the car that makes it.”  I nodded and then gave him some flack for going to a wedding with his sister as his date.  He turned the music up and drove.

Tyler looking so gangster, in Golden Eye.

A few months after that, he was gone.  A plane crash above Silverton had taken his life, and the lives of three other people, on December 3, 2011.  I was in Silverton that night for a party with friends, having braved the winter storm in my trusty 1997 Honda Accord (“The Champagne Supernova” for those keeping track).  When I got the news, I was sitting at a bar, eating dinner with a friend, and people all around were talking about a plane crash.  I had heard the chatter, but had completely forgotten that my brother was flying that day.  When I texted the sheriff (only in a small town like this would someone have the personal number for the sheriff), he didn’t answer any questions and just instructed me to come to the courthouse.

The funny thing about finding out terrible news like this is that it doesn’t hit you all at once.  It takes weeks, months, maybe years, to fully grasp the loss.  Someone else drove me home in the storm to be with my parents that night, and the next few months were kind of a blur.  We had to go get White Lightning from the airport hangar that first week, and it got parked in front of my house.  It didn’t bother me to see it, but I didn’t want to drive it.  A few months later, we had to sort through the financial things, and I ended up getting the car; the loan was paid off.

The first time I drove it was in February.  I drove it to Silverton from Durango.  The roads were clear of snow and mostly clear of other traffic.  I remember opening up the throttle and rolling all the windows down, with his favorite song blasting.  Thankfully, my sheriff friend and his deputies weren’t running patrols that day.  It was cathartic, but gut-wrenching too.  I had a lot of guilt with the reasons that I ended up with such a nice car.  Now I had the nicest car in the family.  Now I didn’t have to worry about my 1997 Accord and the 300,000 miles that were on it, and the oil leak that came with it.  Now I could relax, knowing I had a car that would get me where I needed to go, no matter what.

It did.  I drove it over the passes in white-out snow storms at all hours of the day.  I put 100,000 miles on it in five and a half years, because I drive so much for my commutes.  When the odometer rolled 100,000 I threw a little party for White Lightning, which I had added to, calling it “Hank the Honda.”  I drank a little Spicebox, toasted Tyler, and wrote this song.  It didn’t all come out at once; it was far too difficult for me to write it.  I finished it over the next few weeks, and continued to tweak it as I went.  I knew right away I wanted to record it to share the story– of all the “therapy songs” I had written over the years, this one was the only one that I thought I had a prayer of being able to sing.  It wasn’t about him, directly, it was about his car.  My car.  How I got my car.  How I would give anything to have him instead of the car, but I can’t turn back time.  We always bonded over vehicles, and it’s the only way I knew to deal with the story.  

I did the demo on my own at my house.  My voice cracked, but the band got the idea.  Scott Smith, our esteemed engineer and producer, gathered us all into the control room to make a plan for the song.  The original members of Red Rhapsody, my old band, were there, playing this song with me.  They all knew Tyler, they all knew what happened, they all had some grief of their own to contribute.  We got the bones of the song down within a few hours, but we spent about an hour on the middle instrumental section.  Scott’s instruction was perfect:  we’re going on a ride, things are grooving, then it’s gotta be kind of chaotic, and then fall back together.  That’s the story.

Side note– James Macklin, who plays guitar on most of these tracks, slipped on the ice the day of recording and broke his hip.  He’s a young guy, didn’t deserve that kind of injury, but ended up being out of commission to record for the better part of a year.  I called in pinch-hitter Ross Martin to finish up the guitar tracks on this song.  I had to go pick him up from a gig he was doing in Telluride and bring him to the studio in Durango.  I took White Lightning, and in the car, we chatted about the meaning of the song, my brother, the car, the music business, gigging on cruise ships, and a bunch of other topics.  Judging by the song and how it flows, I think he got the idea.

After I got a new car and sold White Lightning, I wrote an extra verse to this song, which has yet to see the light of day.

I can sing this song, sometimes.  I usually don’t, though.  I’m shocked I got through it in the studio without major voice cracking and breaking down.  I guess it’s true, some things, you just do.  I sold that car in October, but I sold it to family members, so it’s not entirely gone.  I have a newer Accord now, which I call “The Silver Bullet.” It gets me where I need to go, usually faster than I need to get there.  Sometimes I put my CD in and listen to Brand New Car, tinted windows down, sunroof open, punch the throttle and think of my brother in the passenger seat, singing along.

-Lace

p.s.  I know the lyrics are hard to understand in the recording, so you can read them all here.  This is the final Story Behind the Song, but keep checking the blog page for new and interesting posts I have planned for the future… Thanks for reading these.  It has been my pleasure to open up to you, from behind the microphone and this computer screen.  Happy Holidays to you and yours.  I hope you spend time doing what you love to do, with the people you love.