And there's a feeling you get when your tenderest buds of soul inside get stepped on one time too many. You can come back and you can suck it up, and you can grin at the world while your ribs are weeping under your skin, but, by God, there comes a time when someone pushes something down yourthroat one too many times and the rubber snaps and you just right then and there have a change of mind.

For Patty, it started back that night when Willie asked her opinion about "Crazy", but the snap didn't come for years -- years of Greased Lightnin' settling for the regular, the steady and the known, when all around it seemed people were pushing into new stuff, getting their souls blown out with sounds that stretched the world and mad whole new kinds of time appear. She remembered when she had an invitation to spend a month in Chicago opening, a whole new town, a whole new piece to her career. But Chicago wasn't country, and Roscoe ordered her to turn that down. And the time she wanted to cover "Lonely Tonight", excited at bringing the girl's side out into the world, she knew she could do it. And he said no, to that, too. And it wasn't just the music, you know. He was the kind of guy who wanted to tell you know. Even when you didn't have a question.

And so one day Roscoe found himself reading a note in their house on Charlotte Avenue, out by the Baptist Hospital, and he was standing there and it was dark outside, he was in the living room, his coat still on and the old Les Paul with a new hardshell case in his left hand, maybe a few drinks in him, reading that note, the nice solid wood door still open behind him letting in the chill evening breeze of autumn, like it gets in October there.

And he kicked that door harder than anyone would imagine, just split the whole lower panel, scarred up his shoe and nearly broke his big toe, too.