This is where the journey begins.

Endless traffic in a monster world. Halloween on wheels, punctuated by the steampunk scents of oil, smoke, and hot steam filling the cab.

We’ll be outfitting you with a new Monster Commute comic, Monday through Friday.

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My family and I carpool together, here in Phoenix, Arizona. (3 hours a day is pretty normal.)

We’ve spent the last few years feeling like we’re living in our car. It’s sometimes been scary (that one time we got run off of the 101), often frustrating (wanting to throw my shoe at the police helicopter), and occasionally interesting to watch life on the serpent highway.

I’ve had to add this situation to the mythology of my brain, and see if I could use this situation into something that would keep me out of the local asylum. (Web comic counseling?)

Now, when I look over the ever blazing highway, I try to look for story ideas, instead of a place to jump out of my moving car.

Welcome to my hellway highway.

- Daniel

I decided to do this comic a bit before I knew what I wanted to do it about.

I knew that it had to be about a topic that I was both knowledgeable and passionate, which whittled down the list quite a bit.

However, the topics that I know about are fairly well spoken for, in the comics/entertainment world:

• D&D/Fantasy – This has been covered by hundreds, if not thousands, of comics – drag.
• Office Politics – Dilbert and the Office come to mind, and they do a good job of it. Dead subject for me.
• Bands – Dawna and I were in bands for most of our teens and 20s, but I feel out of touch. It’s been a long while.
• Monsters – Not so much a topic itself, just as something that I knew the comic had to include no matter what.

I started to feel a little demoralized when I looked at the list. I didn’t have really too much more that I am really knowledgeable about.

So, we were driving one Saturday evening, and I was really grinding my mind trying to come up with a topic for this new comic. At one point, I looked up, and only saw a mess of traffic. “Traffic” I groaned, all angry and depress. But then, I realized I had it. “TRAFFIC”! I quickly told Dawna the concept, and we were off.

So anyway, that’s a little about the process that I use for some of my projects.

- Daniel

I’m not a driver.

Some people, they just love cars. They’re born to drive, and they seemingly can’t wait to get behind the wheel and start expressing themselves by changing lanes or accelerating or rapid breaking.

Me, not so much. I like how some cars look a great deal, but driving itself is an exercise in patience and self-control; 2 things that I don’t seem to have a stock of. I find it frustrating to get lost, or to be nearly killed by the cell-phone talking moron with the SUV. More often than not, driving just makes me mad.

Couple that with the fact (psychosis) that I have visions of crashing in a horrible fiery death ever time I get behind the wheel, and you can see that my interest in driving is non-existent. Cars themselves are overpriced and not terribly durable so that does not improve my attitude much either.

I do enjoy simulated driving, since the stakes are much lower and most video games about driving don’t feature much traffic. But, it’s not really the same, as I can quit at any time.

I suppose that I should probably live somewhere European, where I can take a train, walk, or bike to wherever I might need to go.

While I love the idea of Europe, I’m probably much closer to being a hermit, since that is far simpler and much more likely.

- Daniel

Why are people in cars so often jerk-weeds?

I have one theory; driving is anonymous. It’s sort of like the web; if no-one knows who you are, it gives some people (a minority) a chance to act like a dill-hole. I’m sure that you’re totally famillair with the idea.

To take it a little further, I think that big cities have lead to the downfall of any sort of “community” feeling. Phoenix is big enough that pretty much anywhere I drive, I’m surrounded by people I’ve never seen before, and probably will never see again. That means that there is little chance that there is a consequence for being jerkly.

Imagine that you lived in a community, where most everyone knew everyone else. Sure, your business would be out in the open, but it would add another layer of accountability to the situation. Act like a bastard, and chances are that you’d be embarassing yourself and your family once word got back to them.

Am I saying we should all live in sheltered little towns where everybody watches everybody else? Not at all. But I do feel like our communities have eroded to a point that our only cultural currencies are television, sports, and election propaganda.

- Daniel

My adolescent years were dominated by living on a farm.

I’d lived in the city until about age 14, when my mom and stepdad decided to move us into the country.

Once there, my stepdad loaned me out to other farmers, to stay busy and learn some responsibility. I bucked bales, repaired fences, and eventually drove tractors plowing fields and such.

Being a spacey kid who just wanted to play D&D, draw, and read Tolkien all of the time, I wasn’t all that focused on the art of driving, farming, or plowing.

I’d always forget to do things like releasing the emergency brake. On a car, this will prevent you from moving. On a tractor, it doesn’t do much at all, as it’s just made to keep the thing from rolling away.

I’d plow for hours, and then wonder why the body of the tractor was glowing cherry red when I’d hop down to take a (erm) break.

As you might imagine, my step-dad didn’t find much humor in this, which he’d communicate by socking me in the shoulder. Hey, he had to get my attention somehow I guess.

Can you imagine what it did for the fuel economy? The mechanics?

Good times.

- Daniel

I’ve only been in a couple of accidents in my life. 3 or 4 maybe.

The second one was in high school.

My buddy Chad Trent (whom Chadwick Machine is named after) had this big old car, known as “Ole Blue”. It was a (1960 something) tank of a car that Chad used to drag our gang all over Eastern Washington. Ole Blue took us to school dances, road trips, late night journeys to Canada, band practice, and even on rare dates. Ole Blue was a ship, and she was OUR ship.

Not surprisingly, we were always grubbing for gas money. Chad is a kind guy, so he paid our ways most of the time. I was pretty poor in High School, so cash was something I never really had. I didn’t have an allowance, and I didn’t have any real way to get money besides skimping on my lunch, and saving my $1.25 per day. So, sometimes, I’d be able to add that. (Though it was pretty rare that I’d contribute much of anything.)

One afternoon, Chad, his brother Travis, Brent and I all ponied up all of our money, and filled Blue’s cavernous gas tank. We were all about 17, and enjoying the season only as young, optimistic kids can. A full gas tank meant that we were certain to have an evening of adventure.

BAM! As we were crossing lone country intersection, we got nailed by a speeding pickup truck. It slammed into our aft, forcing Blue to lurch off of the road and into the vast country ditch. We all scrambled out, surveying the damage and checking to see that everyone was okay. (We were, though Ole Blue was smashed some.)

While we dealt with the guy that hit us, Chad noticed something even more tragic; gallons hard earned gas was pouring out of the gas cap (gone? I don’t remember).

Our elation turned to bitter disappointment as the fuel of our adventure soaked into the earth. This was one of the rare times I saw Chad really, thoroughly angered.

Soon after this, Chad retired Ole Blue, and we moved on to some other vehicle. (But certainly not mine.)

She’s gone now, but I’m certain that it’s a safe bet that each of us remember and respect that old car that defined our independence (and that summer).

- Daniel

UPDATE:

Chad wrote in to let us know that we’re talking about a 1964 Chevy Biscayne with the following awesome features:

• Straight 6 cylinder 194 CID engine
• 3 speed transmission
• “3 on the tree” shifter (manual shifter on the steering column)
• Steel dash
• Carpet
• 2 bench seats, nearly 6-foot long each, seating for 8 high school students
• Approximately 40 cubic feet of trunk space (Yes, we used this occasionally)
• Custom AM/FM/Cassette sound system (found in a garage as the original radio opening was covered by a metal plate)

Ole Blue looked like this.

For some reason, I remember her as a 4 door though.

- D

Yeah, sometimes I can get pretty doomy.

No, I’m not talking about a standard “bad day”, or normal artistic self-loathing. I’m talking about something a little worse, a little less reasonable.

Most of the time I think that it is totally “chemical”; no excuses here, but I’m just saying that it has no rhyme or reason to set it off, and that it feels like an intrusion to the real me. My wife knows this well, which is why I’m a struggling pessimist. (Or would that be a struggling optimist?)

I’ve gotta be really careful as I’ve had some serious depression issues in my past (decades ago), and I’m pretty certain that it’s in my bones. My family has had some issues too, which my dad proved when he took his life a few years back.

So why on earth am I telling you all of this?

1. I’m a pretty transparent type of guy, and secrets are not my forte.

2. I’m a lot better now, so take off your worry cap. I’m good, and glad to be here in the Land of the Living.

But really I’m sharing because of this: This “doomy” thing oozes directly out of my characters.

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Have a look at some of my illustrations. Crack open one of my books. Look at some illustrations. Go ahead, I’ll wait for you.

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There. See those monsters? Most have some sort of strong emotional vibe. Looking deeper, some are happy but most are a bit dark, while others seem outright doomed. I don’t do this on purpose; they just come out this way.

When I tap into my inner kid to make my art, you get a handful of innocence and hope and joy and fun, but you also get a handful of doomy too.

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I was interviewed a couple of years ago, which was really the moment that I became aware of this doomy trait.

My interviewer said something like “I notice that while most of your characters are very appealing and cute, they often seem very sad.” Really at that point, I really had no idea. I thought that I was just drawing “cute monsters” most of the time.

It was kinda crazy, but she was right. It was surprising, yet made total sense. My monsters had issues too, just like me!

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What does this mean? Heck if I know. I’ll leave it up to someone else to provide that context. I just draw this stuff.

But I do know that it’s okay to awknowledge that other experiences and emotions exist besides saccarine “HAPPY-JOY” and that if you end up looking at much of my work, you’re probably going to see some characters that are a little vulnerable, fragile, or even broken.

It’s just how they come out of me, and I’m okay with that.

Chalk that up to me attempting to channel some of my darker childhood moments into something much more… constructive.

- Daniel

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Notes:

1) There are loads of people who have had truly “DOOMY” lives, far darker than I can imagine. I’m not “woe is me” here, at all.
2) I think that this is an example of “art therapy”. Illustration is probably a decent way to get some of this bad stuff out.
3) I’m sharing simply so that you might know me just a little bit better.

Growing up in Deer Park, Washington, every other car seemed to wave when you’d pass them in your car.

It just seemed like the “neighborly” thing to do, and everybody did it. Especially in the Williams Valley area, that I lived; Pass a car, expect a wave.

As a teen, I thought that it was fairly lame. “In SPO-kane”, nobody waved”, I thought. Still, I’d raise a few fingers off of the steering wheel, and say “hey there”. After I got used to the idea, it wasn’t so bad.

Now that I live in a region of millions, I have to admit that I miss the old “Deer Park Wave”.

Heck, when I let somebody merge into my lane, I expect a little wave. (C’mon, give it to me.) Here in Phoenix, that pretty much never happens.

Currently, I make it a point to wave at other humanz in exactly 2 situations:

1. When I merge and somebody has generously let me in, I give the car the “thank you” wave. I can’t help it.
2. When I’m driving with co-workers, I randomly wave at people walking down the street, to shock them. (The co-workers and the pedestrians).

I know, it’s kinda dumb. But it IS fun. It’s sort of like a game.

Especially because if you’re walking down the street in 115 degree heat, you’re basically dying with each and every step. These people need to keep their spirits up. You’re helping them survive until they reach some safe, air conditioned location.

So, today I ask you try one of these things:

1. Wave at a random pedestrian. (But don’t wave at people who look like they’d like to fight/shoot/stab you. Focus on the tired ones.)
2. Wave at a car when they let you merge or let you in. Just a “hey” wave will do.
3. Be kind in your car. Drive Good.

- Daniel

LEGAL DISCLOSURE: Steam Crow LLC is not responsible for any bad things that might happen while waving from your vehicle. Keep your eyes on the road. Brake when necessary. Road rage is bad. Avoid bad things.

Ice cream is good.

It’s one of those few things that can actually make driving better.

While I don’t get to have ice cream in the car each and every time that I do drive,  I think that it would be probably be a good idea.

Heck, we ought to utilize some of that friction that the car churns out while flying down the road at 83 to make some home-made ice cream.

I’m certain that a fresh ice cream maker attached to every American car produced in 2010 would totally save the US Automotive Industry.

BAM! Economy saved!

I don’t know what it would look like, but it would probably resemble a wooden bucket with a crank on top, connected to a leather belt of some sort, that went into the engine or to one of your unused tires. This could be mounted on either the front or back of your vehicle, driver’s choice.

Then, as you drove, it would churn delicious home-made ice cream for you to eat. (Have you ever had home-made ice cream? It’s like frikkin’ licking the moon, it’s SO good!)

The idea is sort of like those “engine roasts” that they suggested that we all do in the 70′s to make a good home cooked meal while on your road trip. (Basically, you take a raw roast, some vegis, and wrap them in foil and then put them on your oily engine block while you drove across the country. The engine heat was supposed to cook it all up.)

Well, it’s kinda like that, but just the opposite. Ice cream is cold!

Let’s not over think this, Detroit! Just do it. We must have Car Cream! We demand it!

Stand with me, sister.

- Daniel

My car, is usually a pit.

I’ve never really been able to keep my car very clean. Maybe it’s just not a priority for me, but I have a very difficult time keeping my vehicle shiny and nice.

Once you have a kid or two, it’s nearly impossible.

Children have this innate ability to create this gritty film that covers most of the back seat area. It’s very much like rust, except that it’s made out of ground up sugar, graham crackers, juicebox juice, dust, sand, lye, apple sauce, and beetle carapaces.

If you have children, you know what I’m talking about.

This stuff makes a terrific adhesive, just shy of the binding power of epoxy, and it is the 14th most durable substance in the known world.

I’m convinced that if we were able to harvest this material and use it for good instead of evil, we’d be able to save lives.

For instance, if we used it to coat the treads of stairs, thousands of the elderly would live their winters without fear of slipping on ice.

We could spread it on tanks and warplanes to make them impervious to the weapons of Al-Qaeda. Heck, spread it on Al-Qaeda and they’d surrender in a second. (It BURNS!)

Also, it could be used as an artificial head covering for bald gentlemen (like myself), which would also double as a terrific chick magnet helmet.

Just some ideas here, folks.

But what would we call this miraculous substance?

Kid Grit? Sugar barnacles? Sweet rust?

You tell me.

- Daniel

So, I had a post written for this, when the phone rang. This for some $(*& reason knocks out my internet connection.

Panicking (realizing that I had not saved my work), I tried to save my work. I was hoping that it would somehow beat the phone connection from killing the internets.

Well, that failed. I lost the last 40 minutes of writing.

I’m livid. In fact, I’m so very angry that I don’t feel like writing another word about the previous subject at all (Shogun Warrior toys) since I felt like it was a pretty good post. (!!!)

So instead, you just get ANGRY DANNY GARRRRRRAHHHHHH!!!!

Right now, I feel like Machine looks in the third panel. But more on the red horns.

And yes, I know I should probably be writing in a word processing program. Sure, I should also be flossing every 2 hours, saving rare penguins from extinction, and putting every penny I can find into gold, GOLD I TELL YOU!

I don’t do lot’s of things I should, and neither do you. (See that? That’s the “Machine” in me talking. Lookout!)

Okay, I’ve agreed to let the anger course out of my viens in the next 4 to 60 hours or so, as long as I don’t think another bit about that *#&&%#!!! post.

- Daniel

When it’s too early, music hurts.

We listen to a lot of NPR in the car.

I know, I know, we’re old fogies and whatever. However, I’ve found that commercial radio sucks bolts, so there really isn’t all that much to listen to while we’re driving. AND, since we’re already multi-tasking (waking up, eating breakfast, commuting to work), why not add “getting our news” in there too. I wanna know what’s going on, and I rarely have time for other news outlets.

Modern life, I tell you, is mostly rubbish. (Thank you, Blur.)

That said, the music intros to “All Things Considered” is even a bit too much for us in the morning. It’s damn early, and the happy “Bum bum bum bum, bum bum bum bum” hurts my head. When they decided to mix it up by having a slap-bass/fiddle/saw player do it, it can be WAY too much to take, and we turn off the radio for a while.

People are probably not meant to be controlling a multi-ton object flying down the lane at like 80 miles per hour, while attempting to digest news, a banana, and an iced coffee potion.

But, we do it most every day.

- Daniel

There’s nothing quite like driving through a mountain pass in the winter… during an ice storm.

Dawna and I used to make the trip quite often, on the way to visit her parents in Seattle, traveling through Snoqualmie Pass, in the Cascades.

Basically, it’s the most direct way of getting from Spokane to Seattle, and back again.

One road trip, it was raining. This is not good, nor is it what normally happens up there. Most of the time it’s snowing, and as you drive you see 10 foot walls of ice on either side of the road. But raining, it was freezing on our windshields, and making the roads far more treacherous than normal. (Trust me, it’s crazy slick with freezing rain.)

Then, they closed the pass on us.

So, we were on the side of the mountain, stuck in traffic, slowly running out of gas on the approach to the actual pass. There were no gas stations that we knew of, so this was a real worry. We kept the car running so that we would not freeze to death, and to keep the engine nice and warm.

We just anxiously waited for the next 8 hours, hoping the pass would open again.

Eventually, the pass did open, and we every-so-carefully drove over it, avoiding the accidents that seemed to be occuring all around us. It was dangerous and kind of exciting, though I don’t think I’d like to do it every day. (Exciting, probably because I wasn’t driving myself.)

Now that we live in Phoenix, we’ve had 4 winters where we’ve not had to drive in any sort of ice or snow. While I miss these symbols of winter, I don’t miss sliding down a hill and almost crashing into other cars, with little control of my vehicle.

I still want to quit driving, anyway.

- Daniel

Occasionally, instead of just giving you another comic every day, I’ll give you something entirely different. Like today’s survival list, from Beastio.

I’ve been really excited to share this with you, as it’s a fun way to tell you a little more about the characters, the world of Monstru, or it’s odd monster products.

So, get used to the idea, because I’ve got a few more of these on the way, scattered between healthy wads of comics.

For the most part, they’ll be commercial product advertisements from Monstru itself.

I’ve working in advertising for almost 15 years, so in that time I’ve developed a semi-healthy fascination with brands and product ads.

It’s really fun to invent ridiculous mock brands, and let you learn a little bit more about this odd place.

Think of these as our mock sponsors. Sadly though, they don’t pay.

SO when you see a fake ad, click on our real ads and help us make some revenue!

- Daniel

If you know me, you know that I love soda. I don’t allow myself to drink these sugary drinks too often, maybe once or twice per week, max. We don’t even keep them in the house. It’s so good, it’s like GUNS or something. (Just kidding. We don’t keep those in the house, either.)

I was raised pretty much soda-free, aside from the summers of the 1970′s, where my grandparents let me drink my fill of the brew called “Shasta”. Ah, Shasta grape and black cherry still makes me fill loved.

However, the King of all Soda, I’m certain that you should agree, is Dr. Pepper.

It’s a rare, vibrant elixir that I wish to quaff than most every other liquid. For me, it’s better than beer, wine, coke, water and vinegar, combined. (Eww, that would taste BAD.)

“The Pepper” has a rich, sweet flavor that I imagine potions of healing in D&D would taste like.

Basically, when I drink Dr. Pepper, I look and act just like Machine does in today’s strip… but louder. Really louder. Ask Sara, Jenn, Chris, Alan, Alicia, Denise, Bess, or anybody else who’s worked closely with me over the years, they’ll tell you.

This delightful anticipation is followed closely by a sugar-induced office-coma for the next 3 hours.

Which is why I don’t drink the stuff very often.

- Daniel