He Will Forever Be Missed
Peter Daniel Schultz
1946 - 2023
This site was created in memory of our Danny. A loyal and loving friend, artisan craftsman, and multi-instrumentalist who dwelt deep in the groove
Danny
Dan was born in Port Alberni, on September 20, 1946.
The family (parents Cliff, Edna and older brother Bob) moved to Burnaby when Dan was two.
“I had to leave.” said Dan, “There was nothing happening there.”
Dan attended McPherson Park Junior High School and Burnaby South Secondary. He graduated in1965.
Dan was a popular student. He liked to laugh. He took the job of reading school announcements over the PA system. If he was late for school but had a good enough excuse--he would walk slower.
As good-hearted as he was, his friends learned to be careful should they have reason to wake him up...
They knew he could have kittens.
At an early age Dan discovered an affinity for music. His mom agreed to piano lessons but forbade him to study music by German composers. He learned Bach on the sly and soon taught himself guitar, bass, mandolin and trumpet. He was inspired by Bach and many others including the following:
Bix Beiderbecke, Duke Ellington, Big Mama Thornton, Miles Davis, Doc Watson, Little Walter, Hound Dog Taylor, Muddy Waters and Stan Rogers. He acquired a 1920’s hand-crank Victrola to enable him to play his blossoming collection of vintage 78 rpm records in the proper fashion. By his last year of high school, Dan was playing in various bands including a stint with notable Canadian trio 3’s a Crowd, as revealed in this quote from the Museum of Canadian Music:
"The first reference to the trio's new name appears to have been in June 1965, when the group was pictured on the front of the local TV Times. The band's sudden rise to fame was no doubt due to a series of shows at the Ark two months earlier, where it had performed with local jazz double bass player Danny Schultz. (The group's performance caused quite a stir and was impressive enough in fact for the organizers to record some of the shows.)"
Dan knew the location of every junk shop in the city. He loved antique stores and swap meets--he haunted them all for years. He admired handcraftsmanship. He started buying old joinery tools. After high school he took a cabinetmaking course at BCIT.
Dan joined the Ambleside Blues Band in 1971.
The North Vancouver band was known for its many appearances in Whistler. They were the house band at the Christiana Inn, and they regularly played Whistler Lodge and the Ski Boot. In North Van, they were regulars at the Olympic Hotel's Club 140. The band built a following at outdoor concerts including Easter Be-Ins as well as venues like Rohan's Rock Pile, the Pender Auditorium and the Commodore Ballroom.
Over the next ten years, the band travelled extensively throughout B.C., Alberta and Saskatchewan. Ultimately, they found second homes in Jasper and Edmonton.
In the mid 70’s, Dan shared shop space with an industrial glass business in an ancient waterfront building near the foot of Alexander Street. The rear of the structure was supported on stilts as it extended out over the inlet. The glass business eventually relocated, leaving Dan with his own carpentry shop.
He built cabinets, custom furniture and speaker enclosures for Kelly Deyong stage systems. Danny, who had a mathematical bent, named his new business The Golden Ratio.
At the time, Dan was living at 14 E. 7th Ave. with school pals Grant Richardson and Stuart Waldoza.
Stuart would later become the band’s road manager and financial advisor. The living room was home to Danny’s Victrola. His now vast collection of vintage 78's delivered the swing, the bop and the mojo.
In the 80’s Dan relocated to Jasper, Alberta.
The band had made lifelong friends in Jasper and no one could imagine a better place to be.
Danny hung up his shingle.
After a couple of years, the carpentry business was not booming but the film business in Vancouver was.
Dan returned to Lotus Land. He joined IATSE 891 and began a third career as a film technician.
He worked on many feature films and television shows starting with MacGyyer and X-Files.
In the mid 90’s, Dan joined The Dado Heads, a band composed entirely of IATSE 891 members.
Dan owned property in Clearwater, BC. The house, a dog-eared former church, had seen better days but had plenty of room. In 2015, he moved in with his lifelong collection of tools, records, antique radios,
tubes, spare parts, musical instruments and prize swap meet finds. He returned to Vancouver periodically
to work on a show, but due to waning health he retired in 2017.
The last show he worked was The Man in the High Castle.
His first year in Clearwater was a challenge: there was no heat or electricity.
In the winter, the average temperature is minus ten--of course the water froze.
He had a wood stove: keeping it fired up was a full-time job.
He ate out often and worked diligently to keep the local bar from going belly up.
The following year he had the place ticking over like a Swiss watch.
Dan kept himself busy. He created a series of mathematical art prints. He arranged Bach compositions for finger style guitar. He repaired amplifiers and radios and tinkered with his collection. Danny's ultimate
goal was to build a proper woodworking shop. He was working toward that end when his health took a
turn for the worse: mobility became an issue.
Danny moved into an assisted living facility (Thank you, Bill Thumm).
Evergreen Acres, in Clearwater, is a clean, well run and nurturing facility. Dan was fortunate indeed.
He had his own apartment. He had independence and self respect. He was popular with the staff and other residents—he was funny and knew plenty of stories. Towards the end, as Dan became wheelchair dependent, he spent much of his time watching YouTube videos. He liked shows about heavy equipment, shop work and fabricating. When he discovered animal rescue videos, he was hooked immediately.He was profoundly affected by the juxtaposition of cruelty and compassion. He was very emotional about the animals. He felt their suffering. If an abandoned or abused animal found salvation,it made his heart leap. He said he was often moved to tears.
Dan died at Jubilee Hospital in Vernon, on June 4, 2023, from complications of diabetes.
We would like to extend our utmost gratitude to the staff at Evergreen Assisted Living, and to the staff at Dr. Helmcken Memorial Hospital in Clearwater. We are also grateful to Dr. Gideon Lamprecht at Vernon Jubilee Hospital for his compassion. Thank you for being with Danny in his final hours.
Thank you to Peter Stursberg for your generosity in restoring and providing many of the photos in the gallery section. You are the Man.
Special thanks to Paul Brooke. Danny was lucky to have a friend like you.
DANNY'S ALBUM
Dan Stories
Ed Disher
One time, up in Jasper, I went to visit Danny who was living there then. He had plenty of interesting stuff lying around like vacuum tubes and plugs and wires. I think he'd been taking apart an old shortwave radio. He had his guitar handy and I noticed a trumpet as well. I said, can you play that thing?
Not really, he said, but would you like to see a trick? He disappeared for a minute or two and returned with an instrument case.
It's another trumpet, I said.
A cornet, said Danny--similar, but different. He began to play both instruments at the same time! It was a good trick. The thing is, though, he was playing two different songs. I think one was Saints Go Marching In. I can't remember the other one.
Luther
We had a gig at the Legion in Banff. We had set up in the afternoon. We came back ready to go. Word had gone around town. The place was packed and there was a lineup out the door. Many friends had made the trip from Jasper and were looking to raise the roof. We were tuning up when the bar manager waved me over. He gestured at Dan. Tell him he'll have to remove his hat, he said. We had not been informed of this custom. I asked Dan if he was prepared to remove his hat: he said he wasn't. In the years we had known Dan, no one had ever seen him hatless. The hat was part of who he was. I asked the manager what would happen if the hat wasn't removed. He said, in that case, you will not be able to play here. We had a quick meeting. There was no arguing. We decided that if Dan couldn't play we couldn't either. We packed up and left. I told the manager we respected the Legion custom, but we respected Dan's custom as well. A few pints later I realized we could have run a long cord out the window, and Dan could have played in the parking lot.
Paul Brooke
I have many stories of my encounters with Dan over the years, as a close friend and working partner with him in cabinet making, and on movie/TV shows in Vancouver. When I was a 16-year old kid in Jasper and the Ambleside Band showed up to play there for the first time, for us teenagers it was like the Rolling Stones had hit town. We were in total awe of them. We were just like those goofy characters Wayne and Garth from Wayne's World. We used to see them driving around town in a big car like rock stars and exclaim "Wow man, it's Ambleside!" We were too young to legally get into their gigs, so we just illegally snuck in through the back doors instead. One night they were playing the ballroom at Jasper Park Lodge. Our gang snuck in through a back door and stole our way through the halls and ended up behind the stage. It was totally dark and there was a large curtain drawn behind the band and their amps. We positioned ourselves at the edges so we could watch through the cracks and enjoy the show. At one point Dan turned around to adjust his amp. My face was sticking out from the curtain. I quickly closed it. Later when I first got to know Dan, I told him about this. He said "That was YOU? I saw this face sticking out and wondered "Who the fuck is that guy? What the fuck is he doing there?" I still laugh at his voice saying this. Fortunately he didn't bother to check us out further, so we continued to criminally enjoy the great rocking sounds of Ambleside all night long. In later years we became close friends. We shared a mutual love of music and spent many hours talking about everybody from Bach to Bix Beiderbecke to Buck Owens and John Coltrane and Robert Johnson and everyone else. Dan had an encyclopaedic knowledge of music. He really taught me a lot. He had a superb record collection with every kind of music --- old 78s, jazz, blues, classical, country. bluegrass, folk, etc. He was a naturally gifted musician. One time he totally stunned me when he said that he was learning to play a Bach piano piece. A couple of weeks later I went over to his place to visit. I had never heard him playing the piano, let alone Bach. I walked in and he casually said "Hey check this out". He sat down at his keyboard and suddenly ripped off a fast tempo Bach piece with effortless ease. He had the contrapuntal left hand-right hand thing going like Glenn Gould! It was amazing and I was stunned! If he had really worked hard at his music who knows where he could have gone! We spent many nights imbibing Scotch and beer, during which he would pull out records and play them. It was an education. One drunken night after the Astoria Bar in Jasper had closed, we stumbled back to his house. He had been telling me about the classical composer Bartok, whom I had not heard before, so he said he would play him for me. At the time he was renting a room in his house to a CN railroader named Ron. Ron was fast asleep and it was around 2 am when Dan put a Bartok album on the record player. Unfortunately the music woke Ron up, and he came into the living room in his underwear, half asleep and looking very annoyed. "Oh hi Ron," said Dan, "we're just listening so some Bartok." Ron snapped back angrily "I don't care about your fucking bar talk! I have to work in a couple of hours! If you want to talk, go back to the fucking bar!" Hahaha, needless to say we chuckled about that many times over the years. There are many more memories I have of my great friend. I will never forget his warm heart and his generosity and sincerity. I know he had many other friends and acquaintances all through his life who feel the same. Rest In Peace, Dan, you are sorely missed.
Destin Seeds
I had the opportunity to share accommodation with brother Dan while living in Jasper back when. During that time a story emerged about an encounter between Dan and a large male Elk, bands of which used to wander casually throughout town at their leisure. It seems that Dan was disturbed early one morning by the sound of hooves on the porch and upon closer inspection was annoyed to find that quite a large elk was indeed using the porch to access foliage out of reach from the ground. Undeterred by the substantial rack of antlers on this bull, Dan burst onto the porch waving a broom in an attempt to discourage the animal. Much to his surprise the bull unexpectedly took the open door as a sign of welcome and forthwith entered the living room and proceeded to rearrange Dan’s decor whereupon Dan, in wildly encouraging the visitor to vacate, inadvertently panicked the already wild eyed animal who chose to escape by crashing through the living room picture window. Now I wasn’t present on this occasion but I’ve experienced Dan during periods of elevated stress and I can’t help picturing him in his beret and underwear surveying his newly decorated living room and unreservedly expressing his concerns.
Geoff Tobiasson
I got to know Dan while we were both trying to avoid the evil eye of Mrs. Jessecko and her flying monkeys. We also shared a lack of interest in P.E. and 'coach' Grant. It was that torture chamber that taught us the art of Dodge Ball, because both of us managed to dodge the class more often than not. We thought we were cool, the beatniks of McPherson Junior High along with our other eccentric, John Litton(sp?). There was one day in particular that I remember as a pivotal day in our path to hipness. Dan, John and I were on our way to the Schultz pad after school to groove on some of Dan's music and literature. We stopped at our favourite corner store on Royal Oak and mutually decided bananas were the thing. We exited and sat on the curb out front while we peeled and ate. I don't know whose idea it was, but I'm going to assume it was Dan as he had a penchant for head coverings. Anyway, the decision was made to wear the peels on our heads and make ape faces at passing traffic. We thought we were the essence of cool man.
Michael Anderson
Dan loved to eat. When Dan was really hungry, eating "right now!" could be the only thing on his mind. Late one night after a great Ambleside Band show at the Commodore Ballroom, Dan and I went down to Chinatown to get something to eat. We went to our usual "go to" Chinese restaurants and they were all closed. "Bummer," we said. Dan was hungry so we didn't give up. We finally found one Chinese restaurant that was still open. The restaurant had a single row of booths down the left-hand side and a sit-down bar with stools on the right-hand wall. There was a narrow passage between the bar and booths that ran in a straight line from the front to the very back. Being the only restaurant open that late on a weekend night in Chinatown, the restaurant was packed. A very hungry Dan prowled the busy and noisy and smoky and brightly lit restaurant from front to back. All the booths and stools at the bar were occupied. All the booths had people sitting on both sides of the table except for one: this booth had a lone occupant. Dan decided that this was "our table" and sat down without saying a word on the opposite side of the table from the man sitting in the booth. The surprised and very wide-eyed man took one look at Dan with his robust beard and beret and husky shoulders and leather jacket and very determined steely-eyed look. Without saying a word and in what seemed to be one motion the man immediately got up from the booth, grabbed his jacket off the coat hook and fled the restaurant. Boom, just like that, right out through the front door. Not one minute later the man's order arrived. After a moment's hesitation the waiter dropped several plates on the table. I asked Dan whether we should say something to clarify that this wasn't our order and to get a menu and make a new order. Without saying a word, Dan started to devour the order that the man who fled the restaurant had placed. I joined in. The waiter--also without comment--brought more tea and fresh tea cups for two. We happily and hungrily ate absolutely everything that was on the table and had another pot of tea. When we were finished, the waiter dropped off the bill and we just went to the till and paid for the order placed by the man who had fled the restaurant after taking one look at Dan. I made a mental note to make sure I was always with Dan when I wanted to go to a restaurant in Chinatown late at night. I also made a mental note to always act like you belong where you are and you know what you are doing.
Paul Brooke
If you knew Dan well, you knew that he had an encyclopedic knowledge of music. From Bach to Bartok, to the Blues and Buck Owens --- he really loved it all. He was like an ethnomusicologist. I spent countless hours listening and talking with him about the complete musical spectrum. The greatest golden musical moment I ever had with Dan occurred in Jasper back in the '80s. We were working on a house with a small crew of painters and electricians. One Thursday morning on the way to work, I picked up the latest copy of the Jasper Booster. At the back I saw a small ad: "This Week Thursday, Friday and Saturday at the Astoria Bar--- Live Music with the Sam Lay Blues Band from Chicago". I showed Dan as soon as I got to work. He responded in his typical "amazed Dan" manner. "HUH? WHAAAT? Sam Lay? THE Sam Lay? The drummer with Paul Butterfield and Siegel Schwall?" I answered "Well there's only one, as far as I know! We better go check it out!" So at quitting time we immediately went to the Astoria with the rest of the crew. As soon as we walked in around 5:00 pm we saw that drums and amps had been set up on the stage. About six of us took a bunch of tables right in front. We started drinking beer, and waited for the show to start. There was virtually nobody else in the place except for us and the staff. Then suddenly around 8 pm a bunch of black guys walked in carrying instrument cases. With them was an older gentleman who stood out immediately with a very distinguished presence. We saw right away that it was indeed THE Sam Lay. They started playing and were immediately bemused by the table of drunken, raucous white guys in front who were loudly applauding every number with great enthusiasm. At the break they came over and sat down with us. They were all real nice guys and were really surprised that we had even heard of them. They said they didn't think anyone in Jasper would know who they were. They were on a road trip across the US and Canada and just luckily happened to fit into the Astoria Bar schedule for three nights. Mr. Lay was extremely friendly and answered all our questions. I was in awe. I learned that he was a retired member of the Chicago Police Department. It was amazing to sit with this legendary musician who had played drums for Muddy Waters, Little Walter, Howling Wolf, and on Dylan's "Like A Rolling Stone" and all those Paul Butterfield and Siegel Schwall albums, and many more. I made him a request for Bill Doggett's "Honky Tonk" to which he smiled and said "Certainly". The band then went back to the stage and they started playing it, perfectly of course. Talk about a mind-blowing experience. The sax player started doing a solo, then suddenly walked down off the stage, sat down next to Dan and put his feet up on the table, continuing to wail loudly on his horn while the band pounded away behind him. Loud cheering, raucous laughter and hilarity ensued like I've never experienced before or since. Wow, that night was like a private musical party just for us, and a fabulous fun time that I will never forget.
Elaine Stewart
I met Ambleside band when living in Jasper and attended the Snowball at Jasper Park Lodge..the band was great when they finally all got there..1/2 of them seem to have gotten lost on the trip up from Vancouver. Having lived mostly in small towns I was fascinated by these crazy partying musicians...Years later after moving to the big city of North Vancouver, marrying the drummer, John, I was expecting our first child. Ambleside and friends were like a big family to me and Dan was a special, kind, soft spoken person... unless he was woken up. He never liked early mornings. Anyway, Dan came by with a special gift for us and it was beautiful. He had fashioned out of solid oak a rocking baby cradle from a picture he had found in a magazine…a real antique looking hand crafted gorgeous piece of work…Then he proceeded to tell us how it could never tip over with a baby in it and gave it a hard push. Unfortunately it did tip and a small piece broke off the roof edge which he glued back on. Of course with a baby, tipping was unlikely. Many children were rocked in that cradle as it was passed on to family members and dear friends for many years. Will always remember you Dan and that time in my life. Thank you for that beautiful gift.
We had the guitars out one day. Dan began playing a tune he wrote. I filled my drawers. I have to put that song on tape, I said. I had a four-track recorder at the time.
What came next was an eye-opener. First of all, Dan wanted to record the vocal and guitar accompaniment at the same time. I was skeptical because the guitar part was complicated. It had moving voices within the chords and syncopated rhythms. I thought it would take hours. Nevertheless, he put it down in one take. Next, he added the bass and mandolin. He did no rehearsing of any kind. He never tried to figure out the bass line in advance. He never practised any finger movements or made any dry runs. Basically, he did everything in one take. If there was a fuckup it was on me.
We listened to a rough mix. Dan wanted to add some harmony to the mandolin part. Again, he did not write out lines or practise against the mix. I just cued up the tape and he played it perfectly--it was all instinct. I was mind-blown then and I still am. At the time, I didn’t even know he played mandolin. We planned to add percussion and vocal harmony at a later date, but first I had to solve some track availability issues. I tucked the master tape away but not before making a quick dub onto cassette tape. Time passed and technology went digital. Forty-five years on, I discovered the cassette dub in the attic. I wish I could still play the original master tape so you could hear Dan’s song in all its glory.
Dave Malcolm
I met Danny in the mid 1950’s when his family moved right next door to mine and a block away from what is now the Royal Oak Skytrain Station in Burnaby. Dan was taking violin lessons while I was learning the piano. We became instant friends when we discovered that we shared the same ability to play anything by ear on multiple instruments. We had so many things to try and ideas to share. We strung a wire between our homes so that we could communicate by Morse code in the middle of the night without our parents knowing.
Dan was not a natural athlete but he was very creative. One day, at Nelson Avenue Elementary school, he decided to try doing a somersault in mid air with the help of a friend. On the first attempt, he spun around and broke his collar bone. Stick to music, Dan.
Dan’s bedroom was very small but he still found room for his bed, desk, ham radio stuff, acoustic string bass, antique wind-up Victrola (which used bamboo needles) and lots of other stuff. We spent hours listening to jazz 78’s of classic old timers like Louie Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. Dan always had something new to share. He taught me a lot about the great art masters including the non-classical ones like Hieronymus Bosch and M.C. Escher.
Dan had played the alto horn in the school band but he wanted a trumpet and he saw one in a second hand store. The owner gave him an incredible deal on price because the trumpet was deemed to be unplayable. Hah. Dan knew what was wrong but he didn’t let on at the time. When he got home, he switched the three valves around to their correct locations and the trumpet worked perfectly.
We got our first guitars at around the same time and, after a few rounds of singing “Sinner Man”, we quickly moved on to mastering more complex chords, finger picking, and flat picking. We learned everything we could from performers at hootenannies at the Inquisition, Bunkhouse, and the Ark coffee houses. I still have posters for Jose Feliciano, Sonny Terry & Brownie Magee, and The Kentucky Colonels as well as the legendary tall wooden stool that many of the Inquisition performers once sat on.
During senior high school years, fashion had changed and Danny decided to dress up for school to look cool and impress the girls. Every day, he would press his pants, shine his shoes, wear a dress shirt and tie with a tie bar and look perfect in his sport jacket. Hard to believe, right? It’s true but there were no signs of a hat at that point.
One day, Dan took me for a ride in his first car. When we stopped at a red light, we were halfway into the crosswalk so he backed up. When the light changed to green, he gunned it and we shot back about 25 feet because the car was still in reverse. Fortunately, there was no vehicle behind us. Thanks, Dan.
Around that time, we were into Miles Davis, The Modern Jazz Quartet, and Cannonball Adderley. We would spend hours listening to the far out rhythms on Dave Brubeck’s “Time Out” album and we would try to copy them. When Dan joined Vancouver trio “Three’s a Crowd”, I got to know them too. When they weren’t performing, we would jam with guitarist, Trevor Veitch, playing anything we could think up – even John Philip Sousa band marches and the old Spearmint Gum commercial in bluegrass style.
Over the years, several of our school band friends (the “Fogie Mountain Brokedowns”) have gotten together, with family, to sing and play folk music. Dan has been an important member of that group and we all miss him. Thanks for all of those wonderful memories, Danny.
Liz Summerfield
Danny was a magical person with an easy laugh and overflowing with talent. I met Danny in Grade 11 when he first joined the school band. With no previous concert band experience he immediately joined in playing pieces such as William Tell Overature by ear!
Sporadically over the next few years
Danny and I shared many happy times and adventures together. Perhaps the most noteworthy of these experiences was our trip to California around 1970. Danny had received an invitation from his friend's mother to come and stay at her place in San Marin County. Her son was a draft dodger and she was grateful to all his friends for providing her son comfort in his time of need. So with pooled resources of less than $100 and a Volkswagon beetle with a DIY electrical system and painted in neoprene we decided one night to head off to San Francisco the next morning. It was an amazing journey that found Danny the center of attention at a jam session in Mendocino. Everyone was in awe of his fingering skills, we saw the Grateful Dead in Berkley, window shopped for Gibson guitars in music shops. We stayed for a month and it is still hard to imagine how that bit of money could have stretched so far, or how that car could have got us there and back.
The last time I saw Danny was around fifteen years ago when he came for dinner at my house. I often think of him and the world has less sparkle without him.
Rest in peace sensitive soul.
Paul Brooke
One morning many years ago in a famous Canadian city, Dan and I went for a drive
in an old truck he had just bought. We saw a restaurant ahead and pulled in for breakfast. The parking spots out front were all angle parking, facing a long row of picture windows with a sidewalk between. Dan got a spot right in the middle.
The restaurant was long and narrow and everybody could see their vehicles through the windows. It was very busy and there must have been about a hundred customers. We sat down and made our orders and began sipping our coffees.
But then suddenly the peaceful atmosphere was totally destroyed by the incredibly obnoxious honking
of a rogue car horn:
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!
Everyone immediately starting looking out the windows with annoyed faces. It was obvious that it was one of the cars
outside--but exactly which vehicle was it?
It was impossible to tell.
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!
The maddening sound continued unabated and everyone began talking at once. "Is it my car? Is it your car? Whose car is it?" I looked at Dan and he said "I wonder if it's my truck. I was having some electrical issues the other day. I better go take a look." He got up and went outside. Meanwhile, the HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! continued. I could see Dan get to his truck then turn around with a sheepish look, to face everyone inside.
His lips mouthed the word "FUCK!" as he let them know he was the guilty party. Then he opened his door and lifted the hood, leaned inside and yanked the horn wire. Immediately there was a glorious, resounding silence and an audible sigh of relief from everyone. Dan slammed the hood down with a loud bang and came back inside.
As he entered and came back to our table, some guy in the back laughed and said "Good man!" and started clapping.
Then simultaneously everyone else in the restaurant also started laughing and clapping. Dan stood there for a moment
drinking in the applause. Then he leaned forward with his arm extended and made a long, sweeping courtly bow.
He straightened up with a big smile and said "Thank you, ladies and gentleman! Thank you very much!"
Another hilarious Dan story for the history books.
Stu.E Waldoza
Around 1969-70, Dan had two 1949 Cadillac cars--one that ran sorta and one for parts.
One night Dan was taking me for a ride down Kingsway, he had me sit in the back so I could get the real feel of luxury. I must admit it was a most comfortable ride until the world went black then the visual came back with the sound of a loud clanging crash... the hood had come off and flew over the car!
It was heavy putting it back.
It was a smooth ride till then.