Swamp cooler runoff, Tecate, sunshine, desert dust, and a jigger of ditch water: that’s a SCRAMS cocktail. Unhinged warehouse rock from an astronaut, a gorilla trainer, a brakeman, a whirling dervish, and a hood ornament. Partial to making holes, falling down, bleeding, rising from the dead, inventing dances, and ever so sweetly dragging you outside by your hair. Ask them about their Greyhound romances. Smells like: motor oil, toilet paper and electrical tape bandages, sunglasses, and fresh cut grass.