No. 215 – Between the Wheels

Performer: Rush

Songwriters: Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, Neil Peart

Original Release: Grace under Pressure

Year: 1984

Definitive Version: R30 Tour, 2004.

I first heard this song after buying Grace Under Pressure in Hawaii, of course, but I didn’t really know it till two decades later. At the R30 show on my 40th birthday, Rush played Between the Wheels—about the only obscurity in the set—and Scott was going nuts. He knew all the words, while I struggled to even recall the tune. Soon after, he shot me a version from an earlier R30 bootleg.

Between the Wheels became the anthem—one of the anthems, I guess—of the fall of 2004. If were allowed to go back in time and live one three-month period exactly the same as before, I’d pick the period from Oct. 1 to Dec. 31, 2004.

It was an incredible time of new experiences—things I’ve never seen or done before and might never see or do again. It wasn’t perfect—I had some down moments during that time—but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Fall 2004 was the fall I spent at Torch Lake by myself … well, and Maile.

My original plan was to head to Los Angeles after the Clippers’ season ended, but life intervened. A friend of Jin and Paul’s moved in with them after a breakup with her boyfriend but before I was supposed to move out. They didn’t have enough room for everyone, so they had to rescind their longstanding invitation, temporarily.

Actually, that was fine, because I had a lot of work to do before I was ready to make the move. I still wanted to get to Cooperstown while I was close enough to make such a jaunt feasible, and I had a lot of hard-core data input to perform.

I could have done the latter while still in Columbus, but I had grown used to having the house to myself over the summer. So I hatched a scheme to go to Torch Lake in the fall and stay there a couple of months where I could work without distractions. Dad thought that was keen—he agreed to keep the heat, water, cable and phone hooked up. I would head up at the end of September, so I would be there in time for the baseball playoffs.

Even then a last-second hitch intervened on my well-laid plans. Maybe a week before I was to leave, maybe even less, Dad more or less announced that I would take Maile with me. Maile was Dad and Laura’s black lab. She had been an unruly pup, but in the subsequent years—while I was disconnected from the family—she had grown to be a very sweet dog.

I was sold the concept of taking Maile with me on the idea that I would want companionship, when, really, I knew I’d be content just working on everything I wanted to work on alone. But the truth also was Dad wanted a break from being the Alpha Dog. Maile used to bug him—and seemingly him alone—for pets, outdoors, play and food. Sicking her on me—and he admitted this—was a way to relieve some of that burden.

I love animals, but by this time, it probably had been 18 years since I had taken care of one. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a pet. But if this was the price to pay for boarding at Torch Lake for three months, it was worth it. I agreed.

So on a sunny, warm afternoon the day before the 2004 postseason began in October, I loaded my car with a few things: all the annual guides and paper files I meticulously collected for the past two years along with other baseball books, some clothes, my work boots, a few videotapes for recording baseball games and a few CDs. I didn’t need much; it would be a fairly Spartan existence—as Spartan as living in a fully functional house in the woods could be.

Then, after spreading a blanket on the back seat, I called Maile, who had been watching me load the car with interest, and had her jump into the back seat almost matter of factly. With no more fanfare than that—Dad was at work, Casey was at school and Laura was off running errands (all had bade farewell the previous night or that morning)—I jumped in the car and headed off.

Driving from Columbus to Torch Lake typically takes seven hours, 6-1/2 if you push it. (Dad could make it in under six, but he’s a far crazier driver than I am.) The drive that day took much longer. The reason: Maile. Every stop involved taking a walk break, and I made more stops than I might have under normal circumstances for additional walks.

It was about 9 when I rolled into Bellaire and stopped at the grocery store to get a few staples. We arrived at the lake just as the sun set behind the hills on the other side—a spectacular welcome.

Maile could smell where we were, and any concerns about being away from her parents dissipated. She LOVED Torch Lake—part of the rationale for having me take her in the first place. But this visit was extra-special, because I was the only human in the family compound. Consequently, Maile had unrestricted access to the entire yard. She could roam free as long as I kept her from going into the lake above her ears (due to infections) or into the woods (due to her tendency to roll in deer poop).

After opening up the house, Maile and I played some ball on the front yard before I unloaded the car. I’d unpack and set up the house the way I wanted it for the next three months tomorrow, but one change I made was hauling Maile’s bed down from the upstairs. I set it up outside the back bedroom where I would stay.

My favorite three months were under way.