if home is where the heart is then my home is in the street,i was given my first washtub bass in santa cruz ca.by what was destined to become the band of buzzards with robert amblade as the swaggering pyjama clad cowboy dowg, guitar patronne,and the fumblingly endearing nerotic picsean fiddle:guitar and songwriter scare crow, performed by micheal lewis and the fabulous inventive master gadjet master reggie miles (and still damp) the music that was formed at this time was of the value to mankind so great as to never be equaled anywhere any time. one song in particular given to the group was a poem penned by elan armstrong of santa cruz, was named Reprogress and hit the nail on the head with its cry in the widernes world view of the future,the buzzard experiance was wild camping in full view of half moon bay, the buzzards honned their act as if sharpening their talons and lay waste to santa cruz hitch hiking ensemble mind you full orchestration on I 5 and I 10 to hoplessly stuck, on i ten east bound when (i never pick up hikers but you guys)silverbear and his world famous bus patches stopped and we blew into quartzite arizona with the future in our stomachs and not much else,you want more? of course you do and maybe you dont but you'll have to wait cause (I got somthing to do)