First Lollapalooza. 1991.

It was August. It was hot. I went with a bunch of friends, but had to take my own car (a early 70s Duster), at the last minute, so my girlfriend could go. It was a loooooong day. Lots of beer and... whatever. Got plenty of sun. Became separated from everyone at the end of the night and wandered around, through the large crowd, in the dark, in an exhausted, inebriated state, looking for my girlfriend and my car. About half-way home, on an abandoned stretch of I-40, my engine blew up. It left a hole in the block bigger than my fist. We finally caught a ride with a nice old man who was headed our way. The perfect concert experience.