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Rock, Roll, and Really Bad Luck: My Epic TESLA Adventure

By I Am Lorelei! on February 2, 2026

ATLANTIC CITY, N.J. – January 24, 2026 – It was the eve of the Great Blizzard of 2026, and while most sane people were stocking up on bread and batteries, I was packing my camera gear for the TESLA concert at the Hard Rock Live at Etess Arena. Because nothing screams “superfan” like braving a blizzard that could do more than just freeze me—seriously, getting stuck in Atlantic City for three songs and a $30 parking fee is next-level devotion, especially when not even my camera’s charm could score a discount.

The sun was shining, and the traffic was smooth. Birds probably sang. Nothing—absolutely nothing—hinted at the chaos waiting to unfold. I wasn’t blissfully unaware of what was coming—in fact, I knew exactly what kind of snowpocalypse was barreling my way. But armed with nothing but my camera, concert dreams, and stubborn resolve, I went anyway, undeterred by warnings, forecasts, or the fact that I couldn’t afford to hole up at the Hard Rock Hotel or anywhere else to wait out the storm.

After a 4 ½ hour drive, and upon arrival, I was greeted by a lovely garage attendant who suggested I try to get reimbursed for parking. I laughed, because if there’s something I’m good at, it’s paying for things I’ll never get reimbursed for.

Inside, the quest for my photo pass began. I showed my approval letter, my license, and probably my library card, but the staff seemed convinced I was trying to score a free room due to the impending storm. “When did those words ever fall out of my mouth?” I wondered, as I explained for the fifth and sixth time that I just wanted to photograph TESLA, not take a bubble bath in their suite.

After finally getting my pass, I snapped away during my three approved songs: “Modern Day Cowboy,” “Hang Tough,” and “Edison’s Medicine.” Mission accomplished! I left early to beat the storm, but fate had other plans.

No sooner had I rolled just a few blocks out of town—barely enough time for my heated seat to kick in and my GPS to recalculate—than I spotted flashing blue and red lights in my rearview mirror. I pulled to the shoulder, expecting the officer to speed past in pursuit, but instead, I watched in confusion as his cruiser slowed behind me. Ugh, what kind of “bad luck vortex” have I been sucked into?! I glanced in the rearview mirror, wondering what I could have possibly done—unless there’s a ticket for “driving exactly the speed limit.”

Turns out, my taillights were off, and the officer almost hit me. All because the oil change attendant had once again forgotten to flip my light switch back on, a classic move that seems to be their signature finishing touch. The officer, who thankfully had a sense of humor, had to check my insurance card instead of my license, since my wallet was chilling in my camera bag, in the icebox known as my trunk. Once he was satisfied there were no bench warrants out for me, he wrote me up a warning, and I was sent on my way.

Just when I thought my night couldn’t get any more “legendary,” I found myself on the side of the road, tire flatter than my phone battery after a full concert photo shoot. Just after crossing from New Jersey into New York, my tire met a pothole the size of a small swimming pool, and my night took another wild turn. OnStar must have been at the concert too, because they weren’t answering. So, I called 911, who in turn called the Thruway Authority, who promised help in “about 30 hours.” I figured that was just enough time to edit my photos, write a novel, and maybe learn to knit.

But before I could even start scrolling through my blurry shots of TESLA rocking out, a hero in a reflective vest appeared, rapping on my window. Was he real, or just a road mirage conjured by my desperate need for a tire change? Either way, my night was saved—now facing a daunting 2 ½ hours ahead of me, limping along on a donut spare and hoping I’d make it home without further incident.

Let’s talk money—the price tag for photographing TESLA for just three songs: $30 for the garage, $181 since the tow service only took AAA (which, naturally, I didn’t have), $42 in tolls, $56 for gas, and $304 for a brand-new tire. Grand total? $609. Dedicated fan? You bet. And I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat!

My family would say I’m “Mama’s Fool” for braving the storm just to take three pictures. Even though I seemed to hit “Rock Bottom,” things started “Gettin’ Better” once TESLA began performing. Black clouds just seem to follow me, that’s just “The Way It Is”. After hearing about my wild adventure, if anyone comments why I’d be crazy enough to do it again, I’ll just point to the “Signs”– they all say, “TESLA rocks!”

Photography by I Am Lorelei!.