There is a special branch of human endurance reserved for travelling with musicians you do not like. You share vehicles that smell like hot fast food and unresolved childhoods. You negotiate radio choices as if peace treaties. Someone always needs to stop, someone always just stopped. Silence becomes political. Every personality flaw is reframed as their process. Time loses meaning. Distance gains it. You learn a lot about people and how they handle boredom. How they handle stress. How they handle being wrong and how often they need to be right. Some believe the gig starts at the venue and for some start it starts when the car door closes. Soon you understand why so many broke up immediately after their best records. The music may still be good. Sometimes even great. But the real performance happens in the car, where nobody is listening and everyone is keeping score. Touring teaches one many things. Among them: liking someone’s playing is not the same as liking their company, and both matter more than anyone admits.