Ben Spurr, frontman of Toronto indie pop/rock band The Coast, is calling from California, telling me about his present North American tour.

“Before this one,” he says, “we’d been doing small tours in a minivan, like a soccer mom van.... So before we left for this big tour we decided we had to get a 15-passenger van; we’d be able to sleep in there and stuff.”

The band went all over southern Ontario looking for a van that fit within their very modest price range, and they found one: “A sweet-looking ride with a blue stripe down the side—it was great-looking!”

The band planned to drive from Toronto to Austin, but, as Spurr recounts, “At some point we realized the gas tank was kind of... cracking.” 

“Not very good for your mileage,” I say.

“Yeah, it took 80 bucks to fill, and it would just sort of fall out—it was leaking out everywhere,” Spurr moans. “So we had to get that fixed, and then, when we were driving through Nebraska on our way to Denver, smoke started billowing out from the engine while we were going 60 miles an hour down the highway.”

Not good. 

“We pulled over, opened the hood, and the engine had completely overheated. We had a gig to get to on time, and none of us know anything about mechanics, but we figured, ‘The engine’s overheated—the logical thing would be to pour water on it to cool it down.’”

I too know nothing about mechanics, so I nod pointlessly at the receiver. 

“The day before we played in Arkansas at a place called Hot Springs,” continues Spurr, “and they’d given us a jug of pure spring water—you know, the stuff that’s supposed to heal you? So we took a big jug of that and poured it on the engine.”

Logic plus healing water: that ought to work!

“Well, the engine gauge said it was still too hot,” he goes on. “We were parked next to a farmer’s field. There was a pond behind two rows of barbed wire fences, we can’t wait for the engine to cool down, so two of us took the jug and some empty bottles and hopped the barbed wire fence, looking over our shoulders nervously—’cause, you know, American farmers, some of them have 12-gauge shotguns....

“We got to the pond and back safely. We poured the water all over the engine, but when we started the van, the engine was making weird noises. So we had to call CAA and they sent a big tow truck to haul it to the nearest town. We brought it to a mechanic and we told him it overheated, and that we poured water all over it. The mechanic looked us and said, ‘That’s the worst possible thing you could have done. Changing the temperature that fast cracks the engine.’”

I file that bit of advice away as Spurr continues the saga. 

“What had happened was the coolant had leaked out,” he says. “I guess there was another crack on the bottom of the van, so the mechanic had to seal off the engine and reattach things... but the result is we don’t have heating in the van anymore. Right here it’s not so bad, but tell me it’s, like, 10 degrees in Edmonton.”

“Well, it’s about minus-two today,” I tell him. It could be worse, I think, recalling our lovely minus-40 week in January.

“Oh,” Spurr says. “We’ll have to go to Wal-Mart and buy a bunch of quilts or something.”

“But no more van problems since then? With the other crack?” 

“No,” Spurr says, adding, “Before we left I wanted a priest to bless it for us, or christen it like they do with ships—you know, to give us good luck. But we never did.”

The Coast plays the Starlite Room on April 5. Spurrs tells me they’ll christen the van once they get back on Canadian soil, so be sure to ask them what name they come up with. And if you have any blankets to donate....