In the darkness to the west lie row after row of cotton, to the east grapevines and other cash crops of California's central valley. A break in the fog up ahead allows the warmth and buzz of neon lights to break the wet silence of that long dark drive. But before any head hits that motel pillow, the brain begins to shake, the bones begin to rattle, and the heart begins to roll as the seasoned blend of veteran musicianship which is Motel Drive, the slinky, rootsy and greasy country, rock and roll, and rockabilly music carries you to that lone bar on the edge of town, that bar mama told you to stay away from, where Gretsch guitars wail and an upright bass is slapped around, where voodoo drums pound and a lap steel grinds away. It's Motel Drive, baby, where Cash and Stray Cats pound 'em down with Gram, Buck, and Dwight. It's blood, love, and beer, the smell and taste of the Motel Drive stew. One hell of a night and your new favorite band...