With all the disasters we experienced on the road (fire, flood, armed robbery and finding ourselves in a nudist RV park, to name just a few), happy hour, understandably, became somewhat of a necessity. During the few stretches without any mishaps, we continued this new custom (look, the memories still stung, OK?) and the happy hour habit became one of our favorite bus traditions. Even when stationary, we continued to adhere to it rather strictly (some might even say, “Obsessively”).

On the road, happy hour for Tim usually meant procuring some local beers since he wasn’t about to have a “girly” martini. (“No problem, honey!” More for me!) So I simply loaded up my fairy godmother (which, I understand, some people refer to as a “martini shaker”), and in a silvery flash or two, concocted a commemorative cocktail, worthy of whatever misadventure had recently befallen us.

On this page, I’ll share my recipes, along with their disaster-filled derivations. Try them yourself and tell me if this psychiatry thing doesn’t work out that I don’t have a bright future as a bartender.

Let us begin with one of my favorites, which also happens to be the very first martini I made on the road (ah… one’s first born is always special, no?). It came about after several disasters, including but not limited to: my nearly getting run over by the bus when Tim backed it up, my nearly getting sucked out the door at 60 mph (I sense a pattern, here), a hail storm so horrible that not only did the truckers pull over, but Shula peed all over our bed, and finally, Tim’s inability to figure out how to work the brakes (said inability discovered while we were careening down a mountain pass - “Do I smell smoke?”). And that was all during the first 24 hours. In short, I really didn’t have any choice but to concoct:

The Phobic Friar
1 part Frangelico
1 part raspberry liquor
2/3 part Bailey’s
Hold martini shaker firmly with both hands; tremble violently; pour down throat.