Bobby Rock

The Bobby Rock Newsletter #42 (1-20-2022) - Adventures in the Batmobile

Hey Everyone - 

Welcome back to #42 this week. Damn. We are closing in on the one-year mark for these Newsletters. Sure do appreciate you guys checkin’ ‘em out!

We have a mixed bag this week, including an expanded book excerpt and one very heavy question to ponder. Let’s do it:

In this Issue:

• The Boy Is Gonna RIDE: As promised, here is the unedited version of the “Batmobile" story from my last memoir, The Boy Is Gonna Rock. Lighthearted stuff, to be sure, but always fun to drop in on the decadence of 80s culture anytime we can.
  
  
• One Big Question: Pondering what we SAY is important to us vs. what we actually DO every day.
  
  
• A Dirty Gallery in the Making!: We have been featuring each of the 18 super-potent ingredients of my custom blend superfood powder, Dragon Dirt, here in the Newsletter, and on social. Scope it out!
  

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Book Excerpt: The Boy Is Gonna Rock
The Batmobile: Unedited!

As discussed in the book, I had just purchased this ’76 Vette and had it custom-painted black with a hot-pink pinstripe (seemed like the thing to do at the time). However, there is a fairly agonizing backstory to all that went down with actually getting the damn thing painted! We ended up editing that part out of the final draft of the book (in the interest of moving the story along). However, it is pretty amusing, so for the first time, here is the unedited piece. Enjoy!

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The Batmobile: Unedited!

Back in the 80s, a non-negotiable prerequisite for every rock-and-roller was having a bad-ass car to cruise around in. That’s just the way it was. So even while we were still on tour, I had my sights set on getting a Corvette—my all-time favorite. A new one would’ve been a stretch, dollar-wise, so I figured a 70s-era model would be the move. I could already envision it in my mind’s eye: It was going to be black-on-black, and I would have hot-pink pinstripes custom-painted on it. (Not joking… wish I was.) And about six weeks later, that’s exactly what I wound up with. But not without enduring quite an ordeal in the process.

This is me and my grandfather headed out for a bite to eat in Houston,
while I was on break from VVI after the Iron Maiden tour (circa ’87),
getting ready to start on record #2.

A friend referred me to a colleague who was a custom automotive paint specialist. Let’s call him Ricky. At first, he was cool.  He was going to help me find a used Vette in decent condition, in any color, as he would be customizing it for me. After a couple weeks of searching the Houston listings, we settled on a white '76 Stingray. It was a bit weathered cosmetically, but it had a huge, non-stock 454 big block engine, which appealed to us impressionable youngsters. So I bought the car, then brought it over to Ricky’s garage for him to do his thing. But when I began to explain the idea I had for painting a few subtle pinstripes on it once he made it black, the “artiste” showed up.

“I got this, bro,” he told me. “I know what you want. Let me do my thing, and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Well… okay…” I said, “but really, I was just looking for a few hot-pink pinstripes to sort of flow along the…”

He cut me off with a wave of his hand.  “I got this. I just need to get in my zone.  It’s how I work. But trust me. You’ll love it.”

Reluctantly, I agreed to let him proceed without any supervision, and then I waited in agony for an eternity while Ricky worked around the clock on his “masterpiece.” Finally, several weeks later, he calls me with weary excitement, letting me know that the Vette was complete… and I was going to freak. He was right about that last part.

I showed up for the "unveiling,” and found the car on proud display in front of his garage, gleaming in the sunlight. I could not believe what I saw. First of all, it was actually more of a sparkly dark purple color, because of some red pearl hues he had added over the final coat of black. And then, it wasn’t just about simple pink pinstripes, as I requested. It was this elaborate, cross-fading design of multi-colored pins, which ran the entire length of the body. But the real cherry on top was this: proudly emblazoned on each side of the car near the front wheels, were the words Bad Vette, written in a decorative font and exploding in gradient yellow, orange, and red. Clearly, this was a pimp’s car.  I was speechless.

Technically speaking, his work was stellar.  This was the kind of thing you might find at a car show. However, I knew I wouldn’t be caught dead in this “gangstah-wagon,” and once he figured out that my initial shock was not because of how much I liked it, our working relationship went south in a hurry. 

The next few weeks were hell.  I insisted that he redo it, and even agreed to offset his additional material costs... which was a painful proposition, given how much he half-assed the second go-round. Things were tense throughout the redo and, as it turned out, Ricky and I would never speak again. But in the end, and even with those glowing pink pinstripes, I wound up with something sleek and cool, like the Batmobile, and not the fucking pimp-daddy atrocity that I nearly got stuck with.

Honestly, though, given my age and life experience at that time, that car was mainly an attempt to validate whatever perceptions of success might have been hoisted upon me over the past eighteen months since landing the VVI gig. A car like that was what I figured was expected of me. Appearances aside, however, I absolutely loved that car, even though it was not without its mechanical issues. It had that thundering, low-ended growl working, even when it was idling in park. And man, was this fucker fast: that big ol’ engine powering all of that fiberglass… death wish city, especially given how front-heavy it was with the big block.

I wasn’t much of a motorhead, so I was rather unsavvy when it came to all matters of auto mechanics and basic hot-rodding skills. Nonetheless, I had a blast driving around town in the “Batmobile” and probably got a little too comfortable dropping the hammer on that bitch anytime I saw some open concrete in front of me. But I couldn’t help myself. This was my first sports car, and whenever I would floor it, the damn thing felt like a rocket taking off. Plus, my dumb ass was overly fascinated with the fact that the wheels would actually screech when the car roared from first to second gear. And despite my father’s very clear warning to me about doing this, I still couldn’t help myself.

I had the Batmobile for nearly 20 years. In the early 90s, I wound up repainting it sans
the pink pinstripes. Here it is a bit weathered in ’06, I believe. It was a memorable ride...

To read the rest of this section, check out the full excerpt HERE.

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A Quick Contemplation About What's Important to You

I recently ran across this thought-provoking question from author James Clear. This one might be worth pulling out the journal and jotting down a few thoughts and impressions, considering what your answer might be:

How much overlap is there between what you say is important to you and how you spent your attention over the last month?

For many of us, there might not be much overlap! So what causes this discrepancy between what we say is important to us and where we actually spend our time and attention?

Could it simply be distraction with our various addictive behaviors in our current dopamine-driven culture? (I hear you!) Or is it rooted more in the Steven Pressfield "Resistance with a capital R" dilemma? Or is something else holding us back... perhaps a sense of hopelessness about our odds of succeeding with this thing... or uncertainty about where to begin or how to best proceed? Or could it be that we are too preoccupied with the outcome, as opposed to the process?

Food for thought...

 

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Dragon Dirt Gallery of Greats!

We have been developing a cool image/info gallery on each of the Dirt's 18 mighty ingredients. I'll tell ya, we take a lot of pride in delivering what we feel is the world's best superfood powder: it's certainly the most potent. Part of our "secret" is featuring full serving sizes of each of our pristine ingredients, and this makes each one worthy of its own featured pic and description. Scope our progress HERE.

And to our loyal and beloved Dirt Drinkers out there, thanks so much for the continued support!

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Thanks again, everybody. Connect next week!

Until then,

BR

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