Chapter Twenty-Nine - On the Road

My time coming, any day, don't worry about me, no
Been so long I felt this way, I'm in no hurry, no
Rainbows and down that highway where ocean breezes blow
My time coming, voices saying they tell me where to go.
Don't worry about me, nah nah nah, don't worry about me, no
And I'm in no hurry, nah nah nah, I know where to go.
California, preaching on the burning shore
California, Ill be knocking on the golden door
Like an angel, standing in a shaft of light
Rising up to paradise, I know I'm gonna shine.

The Trip

Southbound on old 95 in the warm embrace of an early June night. Joe started off behind the wheel because he was the guy looking for the party in Norfolk when we just turned right and kept on going. Several hours down the road I double checked the map and it looked like we had missed our connection to I-40 West in Raleigh, NC. We got off the road and pulled into an all night grocery/gas station. There were three old coots sitting on the porch and we asked them how to get to where we needed to go. They took one look at we two long-hairs and cackled a bit to each other. Then one of the old farts said "Y'all gots to go North to git thar." Whew! And here we thought we were lost. We navigated through Raleigh in the wee hours and when we got on I-40 I got behind the wheel.

A few hours of driving along the unfamiliar highway took me into the dawn at the Tennessee border. I was approaching Douglas Lake, and the sight almost took my breath away. Patches of fog stuck to the hills, sunlight on the water and what looked like the whole country spread out and waiting for me. The image is still soft on my mind as a sign that I was doing the right thing. We were to find out that although Tennessee is only 30 miles wide, it is an incredible 451 miles long! It took all day to drive through. We wanted to get to California as quickly as we could, mostly so Joe could cuddle up to his girlfriend, Ginger. Reasonable, no? Along the way we passed within shouting distance of Pigeon Forge, a tiny burg that would become Dollywood in later years. And a place where at that very moment a young hula dancer was getting ready for her daily show.

Here we were, two guys rolling down the road without a care in the world and plenty of dope in the glove compartment. We drove and drove and drove, digging the scenery and goofing on each other. I had a foam 8-ball hanging from my rear view mirror and Joe liked to smack it now and then as a rim shot to his jokes. Once he took a swat while he was driving and yanked the wheel, causing us to fishtail a bit before getting back on the groove.

"Yeah, I can just see it now, bro'...'Well see, officer, my cousin thought his joke was pretty funny so he whacked the 8-ball and we lost control and that's why we're in this ditch. The dope? No, that's not ours. It must have been there already...'"

We cruised on, hitting the ball more cautiously.

Onward

Now we came to Mississippi, and across the mighty eponymous river. We rolled over a cantilever bridge and I saw the brown, churning water beneath, moving on to the sea. I was really doing this. The song kept coming back:

Goin' to California with an achin' in my heart...

What was I doing? Fucking crazy. Across Arkansas and into Oklahoma that same day, driving relentlessly and in a pot-induced fog. Finally that night we decided that stopping the car for a few hours of sleep was better than dying in a horrible wreck. We pulled into the lot of a Super 8 Motel in Oklahoma City with more gas in the tank than in ourselves. After a quick meal at the diner we checked out our room. What a true dive this place was. Both beds had several layers of thin comforters and sheets. We guessed that this saved the maids having to change them, as they could just strip off the old ones each day. The bathroom was an adventure in science, with mold on the walls, a huge hole in the ceiling and no glass in the window. But the real treat was the TV's. Plural. There was a big cabinet model on the bottom, then a mid-sized one on top of that, topped by a third, tiny set. The big one was just a stand, didn't work. The one in the middle had a halfway decent picture but no sound, and the one on top had sound but no picture. And none of them had tuning knobs. So we had to use the conveniently provided pair of pliers to change the picture set channels until we saw something interesting, then change the sound set until they matched. Since there were only four stations in town, that didn't take long. We ended up dozing off minutes after hitting the pillow.

Sunday morning broke and after freezing cold showers we were ready to roll. At the diner I had biscuits and gravy for the first time in my life. Oh my God! Where has this delicacy been all my life? Maybe it was just the constant hunger born of marijuana munchies but I was in love with this dish. As I sat sopping up every last drop of this ambrosia a scruffy looking fellow shambled into the place and sat next to me at the counter. The middle aged waitress came over and asked "What you want, hon?"

"Well, m'am, I'm passin' through on my way to my sister's place in Albequerque and I'm pretty low on cash. I just need a little somethin' to keep goin'"

She gave him a quick appraising look and said "I'll get you a short stack, darlin'. Want some juice with that?"

"Yes'm."

I thought about what I'd just seen. Was that guy going to be me in the next few months? I had about $500 in my pocket and no job and no place to stay for long. I resolved right there that I would not screw around like I had in Norfolk. Get a job and get on my feet pronto or end up begging for scraps. Never. Not ever.

What a Blowout!

Now I was the pilot, steering the big land boat across Oklahoma into Texas. We saw gas on sale there for 72 cents a gallon. Hell, milk cost more than that! Joe was dozing at one point as I was approaching a truck rest stop. I was flying along at 70 mph or so and a semi decided to pull onto the highway right in front of me. I locked up the brakes and we went into a full power skid. I held the wheel and got us straight again in time to get around the semi and avoid becoming roadkill. Joe woke up and said "Wuzzat? 'Tsappenin'?"

"It's cool, man. We didn't die and that's real good."

Not far down the road the effects of that skid came back to haunt us. One of my back tires blew out and I guided old Bessie to the shoulder. Joe and I got out and inspected the damage.

"You have a spare?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Never had to use it."

The air was hot and still, not a thing moving for miles around us in the desert wasteland.

"Pretty quiet out here."

"Yeah........too quiet."

The trunk was packed with all our junk so we had to pull it all out to find the tire. I fished it out of the trunk and bounced it on the road, checking it's inflation pressure. We were overjoyed to find that the spare was good and we had tire changing tools available, except for a lug wrench. Looking up the road we saw we had really lucked out. There was a rest stop not more than 100 yards ahead of us, so we could get the tool we needed and change the tire in safety in the parking lot. That's when Joe came up with the Brilliant Plan.

"OK. Let's put all the stuff back in the trunk. Then I'll drive the car to the rest stop and you bring the tire."

"Cool."

We packed it up, he took off and I started rolling the tire along the shoulder in the 150 degree heat. Cars were whipping by, nearly knocking me into the ditch. By the time I got to the rest stop I was dripping with sweat and covered in road grime. Joe had secured a lug wrench from a friendly fellow traveler and was waiting for me.

"Man, why the hell did I have to do that? It's a fucking oven out here and I'm rolling a goddamn tire by the side of the road! Why didn't we both go in the car?"

Joe shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." True. Should I quit smoking pot? Why? What a stupid thing to think about.

Gettin' There

Our tire troubles behind us, we sailed on into the Southwest. Each mile we traveled brought sights and smells I had never experienced. The mesas of New Mexico and Arizona passed in the distance. Albuquerque had always just been a funny name in a geography book. Now we were speeding through town in an ever more desperate rush to get to California. Weird thing: We didn't see a single cop the whole trip. I know that would have made things more interesting but getting busted in such a remote place was not my idea of fun.

I saw the exit signs for towns I'd heard of in song. Tehachapi, Tucumcari, Tonapah, Winslow and so many others. This trip was turning into a blur of roadside attractions and gas station stops. World's Biggest Steak, Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, The Friggin' Grand Canyon. But were we going to any of those places? Hell, no! It was California or Bust for these freak brothers. Finally, at about 3AM Pacific Standard Time on June 18, 1979, the old Ford rolled into a gas station in Needles, CA. That Grateful Dead tune was humming away in my head as I pumped the 99 cents per gallon gas, the most I'd ever paid for fuel. A warm desert breeze wafted over me and I had the sensation of being on another planet. I told Joe that I would take the wheel and we cruised into the Mojave.



Sunrise was beautiful in the desert. I watched as each passing minute revealed more of the alien landscape, from the soft blue light of early dawn all the way to full, scorching daylight. Cacti right by the side of the road! Little desert critters scuttling for shelter. A buzzard making lazy circles in the air. Heat shimmering off the road like a mirror from the sky. Little flashing lights and the inner redness of my eyelids.....oops! Time to pull over and let Joe drive. I was dead asleep in seconds. Joe piloted us the rest of the way into Ventura. I occasionally raised my head to see where we were but it all looked like a set from The Rockford Files. I noticed after a while that we were cruising much slower, but the lack of quality sleep on the trip was getting to me. The Ford had a horn ring on the steering wheel that was vibrating in a most annoying way. So annoying, in fact, that I wanted to yank the wheel out of Joe's grip and send us plummeting down a cliff. Sleep at last! Just as I was about to implement my plan, the car stopped. We were there.


Part 30: Livin' on the Wrong Side of the Tracks

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Time to Blow This Town

Spent my days with a woman unkind:
Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.             
Made up my mind, make a new start,     
Goin' to California with an achin' in my heart.     
Someone told me there's a girl out there     
With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.

This was turning out to be the most prophetic song of my life...

About May of 1979 my cousin Joe came to visit from California. My Uncle Bob was getting married and two of Joe's good friends were getting hitched as well. For a few years Joe had been after me to move out to California with him but I never felt the time was right. With nothing but dead ends in front of me, I had finally run out of reasons to say "No". Save one: no money. So we're driving around one day in my cool 1964 Ford Custom 500 and Joe says "Give me one reason not to come with me."

"How about 'I'm broke'?"

Cousin Bob has been snoozing in the back seat, but he springs up and says "I'll give you the money". Bob and Joe had come into a small inheritance recently and Bob had so far blown most of his on cocaine. It made him really popular with all kinds of new "friends". Bob gave me $1000, which settled my debts and gave me the working capital I needed to get on my feet. Now it was getting real. Man, I am going to California! This had been a dream of mine for years, ever since I read The Call of the Wild and Other Stories as a kid. I called my roommate and told her I was bugging out. She was cool about it and told me she was coming up to clear out her stuff.

The fateful day came, all my stuff was packed in the Ford. We stopped to fill the tank and buy some mean-ass mirrored sunglasses and hit the road.

Memories

I was really going to miss Virginia. The good friends I had made like Bill, Dave, Scott and Cliff. The wild, hedonistic times in Scott's basement, where we drank, smoked, had assorted (and sometimes interchangeable) girlfriends, and where Dave showed us how to light our farts. Never did try that one. I loved the soft Spring returning to the frozen land, and people going batshit on the roads on the first good day. I had gone to school from third grade through college, with mixed results. I flew kites out in the field by my house and we played ball there, too. My family was all here which was also a mixed blessing. I would miss my sisters most of all. Leslie was a great person to party with, having a vivacious love of life. Lori was my intellectual foil, so easy to talk to and my best audience when I played the guitar. Outside of Joe I knew nobody on the West Coast. Hell, I didn't know anyone west of the Mississippi! This was going to be a big leap.

The Trip Begins

Before we left the Greater Washington DC area, we had to do a couple of things. First we went to Uncle Bob's wedding. Three things stand out from that: 1) Just after Uncle Bob and Rita exchanged vows, they looked into each other's eyes and a tune swelled up from the boom box. It was "For All We Know" by The Carpenters. Did you know that that song is actually 97 minutes long? It sure seemed like it as we all sat or stood in a frozen tableau while the tune dragged on endlessly. 2) We finally got a shot of the "Three Cousins" in an older incarnation.


And lastly, the weird way the night ended. We went to Leslie's apartment to catch a post-wedding buzz and got back into Bob's car for the ride home. I insisted on driving, since I knew the road better. Maybe when I was sober, but that didn't apply here. About three miles from Leslie's place I took a turn too hot and the car leaped off the road, over a ditch and smack down on top of a large rock. I turned off the ignition and looked over at Joe.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah. Bob, you all right back there?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah, I'm OK. Sure."

Joe got out, tumbling to the weeds because the car was about three feet off the ground due to the rock. "Maybe you can back it off. Try starting it up."

I turned the key and the engine made a noise like a chainsaw low on oil. Nope. That's not going to work. We got out of the car, dusted ourselves off and started down the road. I had left my shoes at Uncle Bob's place so I was barefoot. We had gone about 100 yards when Joe asked: "How far is it back to Alexandria?"

"About 10-12 miles."

"And how far back to Leslie's?"

As if we had choreographed it, the three of us turned on our heels and started back to the apartment. Along the way a small pickup truck pulled up next to us. Inside were two prison guards from nearby Lorton Reformatory. "Does that car back there in weeds belong to y'all?"

"Yeah, hey can you guys give us a ride to my sister's place? It's just a mile or two up this road."

The guards looked at each other, burst out laughing and drove off. Thanks. We spent the night at Leslie's and got the car towed the next day minutes before a cop drove by looking for the wreck. Close call!

Another Prophesy

One more wedding to go. Joe and I threw on our casual suits and had a great time. These two were our age, and most of the time was spent drinking. At one point we went out to the parking lot for a bit of ganja, staggering back into the hall in time for the tossing of the garter. I wandered around until Joe said "Hey, tall guys in back" and pushed me behind him. The groom leaned over the bride's leg, slipping the garter down, down. Suddenly his hand flicked over his shoulder and something flew right at my face. I put my hand up to block it and the garter hooked neatly on my thumb. Whoa! "Hey, that means you're going to be married next!" said Joe. Right.

Time to Go

We hung out at the reception for a while but both of us were ready to leave town. Knowing that we had a long drive ahead and were both pretty wasted from the wedding, we spent the night on the floor at somebody's house and took off next morning. It was a beautiful June day, with Joe at the wheel and the Ford flying down I-95 from DC to Norfolk, where our farewell tour would make its last stop. I felt very wistful as the breeze blew back my hair, me leaning my head against the passenger door. I wanted to feel the wind on my face, so I stuck my head out the window like a dog would. I turned around to look behind and my cool mirrored sunglasses whipped off my face and tumbled into the road. Before I could tell Joe to stop the car a following semi obliterated them with a tiny crunch, and they were gone. Crap. $7.95 wasted.

We got to Norfolk later that day and spent the next few days seeing old friends and frat brothers and going over to Virginia Beach. We saw the Blue Angels doing some amazing feats, including wrapping up a cloud with colored streamers! As I swam in the warm surf I couldn't help but think that in just a short time I would be splashing in the Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life. The day we left I tried to call Mary, why I just don't know. I called the "Mary Jones" in the phone book and a guy answered the phone.

"Uh, is this Jones Construction?"

"No. Who the fuck is this?"

Click.

OK, it was a stupid idea. Maybe I just wanted to tell her that I was going to be OK despite her crappy treatment of me. But that story was over and we had to go. A party was planned that night and Joe and I drove around town, trying to remember the directions. At about 9PM we were having no luck and without the benefit of cell phones or MapQuest or TomTom we were shit out of luck. As we swung onto the main road again, there in front of us was a big sign that said "I-95 South, Right Lane." Yes, it was a sign that was a sign. One look between us and my bro' and I were southbound.

Chapter 29: Joe and Ed's Stoner Adventures on the Road

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Workin' for the Man

It was like a letter to Penthouse. "Dear Penthouse Forum, You'll never believe this, but this nymphomaniac with a killer body just totally rocked my world last night. And we just met! How could something so cool and so profoundly physical happen to a loser like me?" Careful what you wish for...

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I got back to the folks' house the next day feeling...better...than I'd felt in a long time. Lynn was a total hottie and she made me promise to come back soon. It wasn't hard to do that. I was sitting around watching TV and Mom asked me to come up to their room so they could talk to me. Hmm. Seems they were pretty concerned about my health. Since eating had become a part-time occupation I guess I had lost a bit of weight. Not that I could spare any. I was about 6'1" and weighed 145 pounds. My cheeks were sunken and my ribs were starting to show through. Mom and Dad figured the only way to get me healthy again would be to make a deal to get me to move back in with them. They promised to stay off my back if I would come home, get a job and go back to school at Northern Virginia Community College in the Fall. Now that I knew I had something nice waiting for me over in Vienna, it wasn't hard to accept.

I went back to Norfolk with a lot of confidence. I'd served my time in the vampire brigade as a graveyard shift worker and I was ready to go back into the sunlight. Mary tried to guilt me into apologizing, feeling bad, whatever. All I could picture while she talked was Lynn lying naked on a bed and beckoning to me. "Hm? What? Oh, yeah, I'm really sorry." Mary had been sleeping with one of my co-workers for a couple of weeks and I knew there had been other guys even while we "dated". So it was a less than heartbreaking departure for both of us. It had been about control for her and now I was moving on. It was the coldest relationship I've ever known.

Home,Redux

So started a two year period where I worked a lot of interesting, though not career-making jobs and went to school. I finally studied my passion: music. I took lots of great classes and got on the Dean's List. Dad looked over my report card.

"Let's see, Music Appreciation, Piano, Vocal 101, Guitar, History..."B". Good, you did well in a real class, too."

Love ya, Pops.

After just a few months of this I was going nuts again. Then I got a call from an old friend from Norfolk who was moving to the area and needed a roommate to share expenses. I jumped at the chance and moved out for good. It wasn't long before she developed health problems and had to move back, though she paid her half of the rent until summer.

Lynn and I were going at it like ferrets. Any time and anywhere. That was great while it lasted but we soon found out we had almost nothing in common except sex. Hard to believe, but we actually just burned out. The parting was amicable, though it didn't take long for me to start missing my regular nookie. But that ship had sailed...

My jobs were all fun, too, though I was somewhat capricious about my schedule. I was always drawn to hanging out with friends instead of working when the spirit moved me. When I was at work I did the job well, so I got away with this crap a lot. Jobs summary:

Shakey's Pizza

I was a pie maker, then bartender, then House Musician. Making the pies was easy work, though I had to remember not to knosh on the ingredients, as people watched us make the pies through big picture windows. Bartending was a lot more fun. We only served beer and soft drinks but we were more in touch with the customers, and that's what I liked best. We had a cool piano player named Jay who could not only play any song ever written, he could transpose tunes we brought in for "amateur night". Think a 70's version of American Idol. I sang "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night and "Feelings" by Morris Albert. I cringe a little every time I think about that song, but it got me performing up in front of people. When Jay moved on I was a natural fit for House Musician. I sang for four hours every Friday and Saturday night, taking a ten minute break each hour. I sang every song I could get my hands on, from Led Zepp's "The Battle of Evermore" to "You Don't Mess Around with Jim", sprinkling in my own songs from time to time. Then there was my sign off, "Margarittaville". Sounds a little sad, but maybe it had been a long night. It was a popular meeting place for all sorts of acquaintances, and I met some honest-to-goodness groupies! A good time had by all.

Handleman Company

Once upon a time there were these things called "records and tapes". That's how music was recorded and brought to the masses. I worked in a vast warehouse that distributed the big, clunky things to stores and then took back the ones that didn't sell. Round and around they went. My work day:

Get there - get stoned
Work
Break - get stoned
Work
Lunch - Eat - get stoned
Work
Break - catch a buzz
Go Home get stoned

I counted the getting stoned part as one benefit. The other was all the "free" music we got. I once walked out the door with no less than 12 cassette tapes hidden in my clothes. One day my buddy (Name deleted by Request) and I decided to get a really great gift for our friend (also deleted). We asked him to write down every LP he wished he had in his collection. Then we filled up a box with those plus a dozen or so extra for a total of 75 records. Blew his mind!


Woolworth's

I started in the Sporting Goods Department which was a total bore. It was so slow that some nights I set up a small range behind the counter and shot target practice with the .177 caliber air pistols. When the old lady in the Music Department retired I begged for the job. It was just as slow but I got to listen to all the albums I wanted to hour after hour. Cool thing about Woolworth's: They paid us in cash! On payday we lined up at a pay window and they handed each employee a manila envelope with all our deductions handwritten on the outside and our pay in cash inside. Who needs a bank account?

Variety Records

I got to work in a real record store! With snotty music know-it-alls who thought my admiration for Todd Rundgren and Neil Young was quaint, to say the least. I fell in love with a girl that worked there but she was involved with another guy and he caught us holding hands as we walked around the Tysons Corners Mall. So that was over right quick. Coolest moments: 1) I met Walter Mondale's wife and daughter and 2) Met Liberace. Hey, a celebrity is a celebrity...Everyone thought the General Manager was a complete dickhead, and when I met him I shook his hand and then dramatically wiped my hand off on my shirt. I was fired three days later. Go figure.

First Foto

Back to the photofinishing darkroom. I operated film processing machines and drove deliveries into Washington, DC. The business did one thing: Within mere minutes of their birth, babies in our contracted hospitals were wheeled under an overhead camera and had their portraits snapped. Anyone who's seen a newborn knows the expression "a face only a mother could love". Then we would sell package deals like the ones you get in school. The whole staff of package assemblers were black girls from the 'hood who sold me dope when I needed it. Thanks!

Budget Rent-a-Car

Way out by Dulles Airport, but not in the airport. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Same thing day in and day out: Customers get cars, customers turn in cars. But a few things made for an interesting time there.

One day during the big OPEC "gas crisis" we got a visitor, one Joe Theisman of the Washington Redskins. Redskin Park was just down the road and we were the only gas station open. You'd think a guy like that wouldn't have time for a bunch of starry-eyes football fans, but when one of the service guys asked him a question about last week's game he thought a bit and then sat down and talked about it. He stayed for nearly an hour, gabbing with us and treating us like "real folks". We all became fans for life.

One Sunday night we were getting ready to close up shop, a little before midnight. I was in the back room making copies of our daily car inventory report when I heard the front door burst open and a loud voice shout: "This is a stickup, man! Give us your money!" Hilarious! It sounded just like one of the guys that worked in the garage. "What are you guys doing here so late?" I said from the back room. Immediately, a short black man with a nylon stocking over his head walked into the room carrying a large kitchen knife. "Get out here!" he yelled. Yikes! I put my hands up and went into the front room. As I turned the corner I saw the other guy, also a black man with a stocking on his head, pointing a gun at my face. I took one look at the gun and my brain knew two things: 1) It was a replica, not a real gun and 2) Shut the fuck up. I had sold pistols just like it at Woolworth's. It was an 1850 Colt revolver made of aluminum and had a bead front sight. Problem was, if this guy had drilled it out to fit real bullets it would have fired, maybe, blowing off his hand and perhaps putting a hole in my head. And the kitchen knife that was pressed into my back was real. I was pressed up against the wall just under the Budget Rent-a-Car sign. I was thinking to myself "This wouldn't be a good recruitment poster for the company." The other rental clerk shoveled everything out of the safe into a bag and the guys took off. They had smashed the front phone but the back one still worked. I called the cops and they were there in 5 minutes, roaring into the lot and jumping out with guns drawn, too late. We found out later that the robbers had been stopped for a traffic violation and released when they saw there were three people, not two, in the car. I carried a small scar on my back where the knife cut me, but it's faded with time.

Travellin' Jones

My life was becoming routine and I didn't feel like there was any future in what I was doing. Jobs were always fun to start and then got boring. I wasn't making any progress musically and I never did the dating scene because I was so intensely shy. Friends weren't always there because they were getting on with their lives while I sat in my apartment alone, listening to the jerks upstairs screwing every girl they brought home and partying until dawn. I went a little stir crazy, especially when the weather got so bad that winter that my damn car door wouldn't even latch shut. I needed a change. And then that Spring, along came cousins Joe and Bob to offer a solution. One that would change my life forever.

Saturn Returns at 28: Goin' to California