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      AS IS

      So there I was, back at my grandma’s. It was time to suck up to her big-time, because I realized there was no longer any safety net; she was the only thing between me and the streets. But when I looked at her serene smile, I realized it was all going to be fine. I could do no wrong in Big Lilly’s eyes and besides, she was in good spirits during this time. I guess it was because she hadn’t seen me in a while and, with her waning powers of recollection, had forgotten what a horror show I could be.

      I decided I was going to make the most of her good mood. Within a month, by sucking up and doing small odd jobs around the house, I had bribed enough money out of her to buy my first car. It was a Chevy Corvair. It cost me $200, “as is.” Boy did I ever learn the meaning of “as is” in the classified ads the hard way. I bought it from some greaser dude in North Hollywood. He really did look like he combed his hair with axle grease.

      I drove it out of the driveway and onto the road. I was smiling, planning to wheel by Saul and impress him with the new party wheels. I was already scamming on how to get enough money to stick in a decent sound system.

      I made it about a block and a half down from the greaser’s place and the car caught on fire. I was so pissed, I got out and walked away. I just left it there burning in the street. It was my own eternal flame, a torch tribute to my stupidity. But I figured the people in the neighborhood knew who it belonged to, so let that asshole take care of it. That was one quick $200 wasted.

      Out of the eternal goodness of her heart, Big Lilly took pity on me and gave me her old car, a blue ’75 Gremlin. The Gremlin was put out by American Motors and is one of the ugliest cars ever made. I used to think that American Motors only hired blind people for their design department. Otherwise, how else could you explain a car company that was responsible for freak shows like the Marlin, the Gremlin, the Matador, and that fishbowl on wheels, the Pacer? The Pacer was 90 percent glass. It was impossible to toke up in a Pacer. There was no place to duck behind if the police cruised by you. Hell, they could spot your roach clip in the ashtray.

      Now, I have no idea why, but Big Lilly’s simple act of generosity got my whole family in an uproar. Everyone was against her giving the car to me. But what they really resented was that I was Big Lilly’s favorite. One day Mom’s brother, Uncle Artie, came over and ripped all the wiring out of the Gremlin because he was so pissed that she gave me the car. He must have done it at night, because when I went to start it up the next day, it was completely gutted.

      Word soon circulated as to who the culprit (hero) was. And later, when I confronted him, he freely admitted it. This is just typical of the whacked-out relationships that ran through my entire family. So what the hell chance do I have to be normal when half my family was slaughtered by Nazis and the other half can’t bear to let anyone show the love?

      But in the end it was totally cool because my grandma put all new wiring in it, and it ran even better than it did before. And that sucker could run. It had a stick shift and a six-cylinder engine that flew. I think it gave Grandma some pleasure to show that she couldn’t be bested.

      Later, Saul spray-painted “Road Crew” on the side of the car. He used a cartoon he drew of a girl clenching a flower in her teeth, señorita style, while her boobs hung freely. Done in white paint, it looked pretty fucking cool. Later he got that same design tattooed on his arm. He was an amazing artist. We dubbed that Gremlin the Road Crew-zer.

      GETTING MY DRUMS

      Now that I had wheels, all I needed was a professional set of drums and the world would be mine. I found a gorgeous set of drums I really liked at Granada Hills Music Store. But they were going to cost $1,100. Before I could pick up the drum set, I had to pay for it. So I would go back there every week and put a little money down until it was paid off.

      The store was actually a house on Fairfax and Santa Monica. Saul took guitar lessons every day there, and I would go in the drum room and mess around with the drums, getting a feel for them. The salesperson at the store showed me the intro to Ozzy’s “Over the Mountain.” I thought, “If I can learn to play that, I can play anything.”

      One time we were at the Fairfax Music Store, where Saul was checking out the red BC Rich Warlock that he later ended up buying. Mike “Flea” Balzary walked in and he picked up a bass off the wall and just started slapping it like a pro, unbelievable. We were like, “Dude! When did you start playing the bass?” and he smiled, saying, “Two weeks ago.” That was crazy shit. We were very impressed. Before they formed a band, we used to see the Chili Peppers, Flea and Anthony, hanging out around town all the time.

      I wanted those drums so badly, I started taking on any kind of odd job. Anything. Soon I was juggling four different gigs. In the morning, I’d make dough and prepare the sauce at a pizza place. At night, I bussed tables at a country-western bar and grill, and I worked at a 7-Eleven from ten at night to six in the morning every weekend. There was a burrito place next to the 7-Eleven and every day Saul and I would get a burrito and a taco there. I also worked at a self-serve gas station on that same block from ten P.M. to six A.M. weekdays. I’d get so tired, I felt like I was hallucinating. But I would just keep going.

      I kept hearing those drums and how great they were going to sound. Wait a minute, I mean how great I was going to sound. Finally, I saved up enough to get the drums, but I still needed another seven hundred to get the cymbals I wanted, and it wasn’t easy, because I tended to get fired from every job I ever had.

      NEW DRUMS

      So my second set of drums was a Tama Rockstar. It had two twenty-six-inch bass drums; fifteen-, sixteen-, and eighteen-inch toms; one floor tom; and a wood snare drum. Now, if I could just get those damn cymbals. When I sat down, I looked over my drum set like it was my personal vehicle to the top. I knew I was going to be successful, never doubting that I would make it. I figured if Van Halen could do it, well…they eat, shit, drink, fuck, and jack off just like I do. So I guessed I could do it too.

      Rock is like the blues in that you got to pay your dues. I reasoned that if I had one job, I’d be paying my dues; if I had two, even more. With four jobs, I figured, “God, I’ve really paid my dues in spades and that means I’m gonna make it one way or another.”

      Sometimes, Saul and I worked together. When we were sixteen, we were hired at Business Card Clocks. They’d take a picture of a business card, blow it up, put it in a frame, and put a clock on it. I’d stain the wood and make the frames, and Saul would shellac the business cards after they were finished. Fact is, we were just hired as extras for the added orders that came in for Christmas presents. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like a business card clock!

      Saul also held down multiple jobs, working at a movie theater on Fairfax, a magazine stand at Fairfax and Santa Monica, and a music store. Saul never stayed with one job very long, but the difference between us was that Saul, and not his boss, was the one who decided to move on.

      THE BIGGEST PRACTICE FACILITY ON EARTH

      When I finally got the cymbals, I had an entire professional drum set that inspired me to practice until I was pretty damn decent. Every second I wasn’t working I was practicing. Hours and hours of exercises mixed with mimicking the drum parts from every great song I loved—Ozzy to Aerosmith, Stones to the Crüe. I set the bar pretty high for myself; I wanted it all to sound perfect. Finally I built up the confidence to call Saul and say, “I’ve got it together.” We arranged a rendezvous, and I packed the drums into the Gremlin and drove to La Cienega Park just north of Olympic. It felt like the perfect spot, playing in the big wide-open in an area the size of four football fields. I had everything set up before Saul arrived around eight o’clock. With Saul and some of my other friends there, it almost felt like an audition. Hell, it was an audition, for my friends, for Saul, and for the gods of rock. They were all there that day.

      I was never so happy. I had finally gotten my shit together, and I set it up for Saul to check me out and let him take it from there. I played a few beats, executed

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