Mental states and clothing varied in the 70's. One day it might be typical hippie patched jeans, but on occasion I wore my maternal grandmother's silk evening gowns from the 1930's. There were a couple of fur coats that were worn as well. I'd get "I don't get it... you're a hippie but you wear animal flesh and fur?" I'd say "I don't get it either."
Some evenings called for Alice Cooper make-up also. The sloppy, squiggly version he drew. Gave one a striking look.
Well, in those days it was pretty normal for a car of guys to pull over when and ask "Hey baby. Want a ride." Sometimes you get in, sometimes you don't. This particular evening, could have been spring or fall of 1971, I was walking down Long Beach Road with a friend. She was up for some things, but never wanted to go to extremes. She was a poetry "quoter," getting me all excited about the Doors of Perception all the time.
I know I had on one of the fur coats, probably jeans. Had on my pale pink leather gloves and Alice Cooper make-up. Walking along, lo and behold, there's a big dead mallard laying on the ground. Right next to Towers Funeral Home. "Oh cool." "Don't pick that up!" "Why not?" So I picked it up and held it in front of me as we walked. Damn. The cars were so much better then. I could hear a loud engine approaching and slowing down. I stay facing forward. Guy rolls down the window. "You want a ride?" I was nearest the street. My eyes open big, I turn slowly and say nothing. I just look the guy in the eyes with my Alice Cooper eyes. I outstretch my arms and move the dead mallard closer to the car. Boy did this happen quick. The guy yells back "You sick bitch." He says something else to the other guy and the car peels out into the ether. Never to be seen again. It was powerful.
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