We all grew up together in a small room above a Jack-In-The-Box on Route 53 south of Tannersville. We had no parents (ever since that Hands Across America accident), so we took care of each other, and taught ourselves music from what we were able to hear from passing cars. A little Hank Williams from a rusted Buick, some John Lee Hooker from a silver Valiant, or a dab of Judas Priest from a '82 Camero. Life was tough but with our diverse musical knowledge we sold the sandbox, bought a guitar and set of spoons, and thus our saga begins...
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