FARGO - Wipers sweep the windshield of the maroon school bus with little predictability. The defrosters cannot keep up with moisture forming on the inside of the glass, and each turn of the steering wheel has the bus occupants shifting their weight on unsteady seats.

Members of the rock band Ded Walleye, leaving for a three-night, three-gig road trip, don't seem to mind the riding conditions.

"It rides like a Cadillac," says bassist Mitch Fallgatter.

"A Cadillac with three wheels," quips guitarist Eric Letvin.

When the bus reaches Alexandria, Minn., 100 miles southeast of Fargo, the roads are clear. But the band still has 220 miles to go before reaching Rochester, Minn., and the North Star Bar, the first stop on the trip.

By the time the tour is over, band members will have spent 16 hours on the bus, struggled for sleeping time and dealt with the death of a band member's relative in a car accident.

Ded Walleye's recent trek sounds like a normal weekend to Gary Bitzer, owner of an entertainment agency in Fargo. He's been in the business 39 years and has booked bands, including Ded Walleye, for the past eight.

If a band wants to make it, it has to tour, he says. Routing is more difficult now, because clubs are not booking as many bands as they did in the 1980s.

Ded Walleye - Fallgatter, Letvin, singer Dave Morris, and drummer Jim Julsrud - went full time in September 2002. The band has been around since 1997, with the current lineup performing together since 2000. They have about 15 original songs and cover tunes from bands ranging from Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains to Foo Fighters and Red Hot Chili Peppers.

"Before, we would want to go to the (Twin) Cities or go somewhere on a Tuesday night to play, but we couldn't because we all had day jobs," Fallgatter says. "Now it's just all for the band."

Morris, 27, majored in vocal music education at Minnesota State University-Moorhead. He has one semester left - his student teaching. Fallgatter, 23, wants to open an auto detailing shop with his brother in Fargo. Julsrud, 30, works part time as a welder, and Letvin, 27, puts in a few hours at Bitzer's agency.

But being in Ded Walleye is how the quartet pays rent and puts food on the table. They go on the road two to three times a month, hitting clubs across Minnesota and into Iowa, trying to earn the $3,000 per week they need to meet their budget.

"This is the first year I've made more money with the band than doing anything else," Julsrud says. "It feels pretty good."

The band meets its budget about four weeks out of every five, but Fallgatter and Morris don't have health insurance.

"When I get sick, I'm pretty much at the mercy of the hospital," says Morris, while sucking on a throat lozenge.

"Obviously, we know in order to make it prosperous we have to play four or five times a week, even when you're getting a cold," he says. "You perform through the pain."

Band members spend much of their time on the road in the bus, which they have equipped with a 20-inch television and DVD player plugged into a power converter. They eat mainly at fast-food restaurants, and keep in touch with life back home through their cell phones.

Letvin talks to his wife, Janelle, at least three times a day. The couple have been married four years and have a daughter who is almost 2.

Letvin says his wife understands the band's need to travel.

"She's a big fan of the band, has been since we started," he says. "Whenever possible, she tries to come along. It's obviously harder now with our daughter.

"I try to make sure when I'm at home, I'm with my daughter as much as I possibly can be," Letvin says. "I just don't want her to get used to me not being there."

Bitzer says any touring band becomes its own family. Members of Ded Walleye have found that to be true.

"When you're on the road for extended periods of time, you're going to get on each other's nerves," Morris says. "Look at married couples. Married couples aren't happy all the time."

Bitzer says Ded Walleye makes a concerted effort everywhere it plays to turn fans into friends - a smart business move.

"You can't just go up there and play and go hide somewhere," he says. "You have to walk off that stage and go out there and meet people."

Those efforts and a merchandising business that spreads the band's name around - though they don't make money off the merchandise - have resulted in a loyal fan following for Ded Walleye.

"They just blow my mind every time I see them," says Jon Abel, a hospital supervisor in Rochester who sports the same type of tattoo as the band members - a fish skeleton. "If they're near, we'll see them."

The band has recognition, but has not achieved its goal of signing with a small, independent recording label. Members have contemplated a move to Minneapolis, since they rarely play west of Fargo.

They say they'll keep hitting the road as long as they can, in pursuit of their dream.

"We wouldn't do it if we didn't enjoy being on the road playing all the time," Letvin says. "If it gets to the point where we're doing what we can and people just aren't taking interest in it, then that's when you have to look at it and go, 'Maybe this just isn't worth it.' But we haven't run into that wall yet."