“I’ll do it on one condition,” he said. “I play the whole album. Every song. In order. No hits, no encores, no ‘Free Bird.’ And I get final say on the artwork.”

Then, on a Tuesday, the phone rang.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

Then he started the engine, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove toward Bakersfield, toward the garage, toward whatever came next.

“Mr. Lambert,” she said. “My dad used to play this record for me. He died last year. I just wanted to say thank you.”