51 You can't understand what I'm saying. Can you?

Here's one of those times I'm throwing in a couple of things afterwards. It's going to happen. I was thinking about another place and there was the name of a street that dragged out a little bit more memory of Montreal. Not a lot, but something.

I don't know how I could forget that I spent a lot of time on Sherbrooke Street near McGill. That was pretty much the area. That's all.

Montreal was a clean city but a little too sterile for us. Probably because we stayed in that one area near the school. People were cordial and friendly, but maybe not ready to make any real connection. Except for the long haired panhandler.  

We did take a day to go up to Mont Royal. A nice hilly area overlooking the city. It was there that I learned I had some weird kind of vertigo. I was hanging onto the railing of the stairway and basically hyperventilating. I think I was holding people up.😀 Oh well. The damn mosquitos there. I had welts from one end to the other.

I was also thinking people may be wondering if we ever cleaned ourselves. I brushed my teeth and washed my face everyday. Carried along toothbrushes and toothpaste, but we also used salt from restaurants to brush our teeth when we finally ran out of toothpaste. I had a tube of Prell in my bag and hit the sink at the school every few days. Probably washed my armpits every day too. (I don't care if it's too much information. Seems like people are squeamish about nature nowadays.) This is one of the reasons we left Montreal, besides it not being California. Even though the sink helps, I think I wanted to take a shower. My mom always said that we get dirty from the filth in the air. Cities make you dirty. Things are cleaner in the country.

But we ended up in Toronto next anyway.

Not us

50 I picked up my bag, went lookin' for a place to hide part 2

Our ride was going to head east a bit and let us off near the road that would take us to Montreal. At least we'd be going in a general westerly direction. The other hitchhiker stayed with them. Bye! I wonder if they had any repercussions for what we did? 😑 I'm sure the border people must have notated their license plate, but who knows...

I don't know how our next ride could tell, but I guess you could. "Are you American?" Our accents didn't help, I'm sure. "Oh. A lot of people will resent you. Your boys have been coming in here to avoid the draft. Taking jobs away from our boys." Oh. We told him we didn't think we were going to stay. Going to California.

Montreal. 1970s.

We were let off in the middle of the city. Somewhere. Montreal seemed pretty cool. Lots of colorful people. Was everybody good looking? The streets were filled with people walking around. We had no problem asking people questions. Where's a good place to go? Oh! French speaking! Most everybody spoke English too, but it was kind of lucky I took French my freshman year. Couldn't really handle a conversation but I could read a menu anyway.

I guess we were somewhere near McGill University. Took a walk over there and checked it out. Not a lot of people because it was the summer. We walked through the halls and looked at the old photos of alumni. If I had only known Captain Kirk went there.

Now

Then

We hid our stuff in bushes somewhere there, in a nice clean way, and went back over to town. Starting to get a little low on that $35. I remember the restaurant we went in. Ordered something super cheap. It was just a regular place but the people there were cool. Some guy with long, curly hair came in and went around to the plates that people left and he picked a few things off of them. We talked to him. He had a french accent.

"Yes. It is cool. You can get some good food." Well. We finished what we had and picked up a few things off plates on the way out. Let's get some sleep. That was a hell of a day. While we were walking back to McGill we noticed how clean everything was. The complete opposite of New York. Astounding to us. Not even a piece of litter.

Here we go with that sleeping bag. The mummy sleeping bag the nice lady in Maine gave us. Thank God we had it but boy... we tried every position of both trying to fit in that thing. I'd like to see that acted out cause it was a hell of a time. We'd start out really squished, unzipped. The only thing we could do was to take turns. I got the first night, because, you know, I'm a lady. But LBJ was really uncomfortable and I needed him to not be dead tired. We were young so a good sleep every other night kept us alive.

Alright. Here we are. Now what are we going to do? Walked back down to that street. Not sure of the name but it was busy with people. Hey there was that guy with the long curly hair on the corner. He was panhandling. That wasn't LBJ's gig. All he had to do was to ask a couple of people where he could find some work and off he went. I was going to be ok there. Hmmm. Ok. I'll try panhandling too. So I started across the street from the french accent guy. I was doing pretty good. People were friendly. Panhandling was a little different then. We were just trying to make a trip and people were helping us out. 

Huh? Here comes the fella from across the street. Oh? It was like he was out of a movie. Excuse me, but I looked up at him and there was a glow around him. Maybe the feeling was mutual? We would talk about stuff for hours. But we needed to work at it for a few hours a day, so we'd split up and get back to work. He explained to me that I was really cutting into his deal. I was getting most of the money on the block. It was my smile. So I moved further on down the street and it worked out.

At the end of the day LBJ came back. We ate. Went back to McGill and wandered around. I think we walked many, many miles a day back then. Hit the sleeping bag or not. Went on for about a week and then said "We're getting nowhere." Better move on again.

49 I picked up my bag, went lookin' for a place to hide

So I'm not going to get all the roads right, but I'm pretty sure I've got our next day figured out. I'm going to admit to a crime but I don't think anyone would care by now.😀

We were heading out of Portland and were thinking "Well, we ended up here. How are we going to do this?" Don't want to go through New York. No. Last thing we should do. LBJ said "Canada." Canada? "It's the only way." Uh. Weird. But yeah.

Next time the car stopped we said Canada for once. Guess we got a ride going north on the 295 for a little bit. Got let off before Augusta. I'm damn lucky to have known what that was like. The side of the road. Sometimes walking cause you just had to make some progress or just plopped down. Sitting in the grass, eating sandwiches the nice lady made. We didn't have anything to drink with us, but all the coffee we had in the morning held us over. There was never a problem finding a break in the traffic to pee either.

Next car that pulled over had an awfully nice couple in the front seat. I don't even think we had our thumbs out. Still eating. There was another hitchhiker in the back seat. No problem. Those interiors were pretty big.

You're on those roads up there going north, there's a good chance some of those people are heading into Canada. Especially for the hippie type back then. I couldn't tell you what we talked about after all these years, but another group of friendly people. I fit right into this laid back attitude, already felt like the weight of a thousand pounds was lifted off my chest. The car radio was always on. Mostly AM channels going in the cars. FM was still almost like pirate radio.

I could almost picture them but a little hazy. Windows open. Wind blowing in my hair again. Still had knots from the first day. Took a long time to get all those out. The couple and the hitchhiker were all straighter than us, but we all respected each other as human beings. I know we talked a little bit about our plans to get to California. They liked that we were going through Canada first. People enjoyed different stories and ideas.

But the way they were going wasn't straight north. They were going west at Augusta, backtracking through New Hampshire and Vermont. Then going north. Said we end up in a better spot anyway. Sure, good.

Not us.

I always spent a lot of time staring out the window. LBJ was more of a talker, Irish blood. I'd throw in a couple of things once in a while. Think we probably stopped at a gas station once. They weren't like convenience stores. Just gas and bathrooms. But I think we stopped somewhere for quick food. Had the sandwiches so we probably got a glass of milk or something. 

Probably about four hours later we pull into the Derby Line - Rock Island Border Crossing in Derby Line, Vermont. For some reason, mostly being potheads, we didn't really anticipate this. The couple in the front seat just kept staring forward, looked a little nervous. Didn't turn around to ask "Is everything OK?' They waited till now to ask. 😀 The other hitchhiker was confident. We said "uh, yeah." You know they were asking if we were wanted by the law or maybe carrying drugs. 

Here's where one of the dreams starts. We pull up to the customs officer or whatever he was. He puts his head in the window. Asked the couple where they were headed and what their plans were. I guess their answers were ok, They looked ok. The officer looks in the backseat at us and the other guy and asks the couple if we were with them. No. Hitchhikers. He looks back at us. "Please follow me into the station." Fuck. He told the couple where to wait for us. They were awesome and waited. I guess it would have looked weird if they took off, even though they were a little nervous.

The other guy was just so happy and confident about everything. He goes bouncing in there. We follow with our Pan Am bag, green duffle bag and mummy sleeping bag.

The border. Stanstead.

I guess we were in Stanstead, Quebec. The dude that brought us in told us where to sit and I remember the building wasn't very big at all. We sat down outside a room that the other hitchhiker went into. There was some kind of window and we could see him showing the person behind the desk all kinds of things. Digging in his bag. They were really asking him a lot of questions. Really. We were completely "shitting bricks." We were trying to talk very quietly and thought the gig was up.

He was in there a while. He was putting his stuff away. Shit, we just have to get out of here. There was a water cooler near the entrance. I stood up and looked at LBJ. He got up. We were walking towards the cooler and someone looked up at us. I said "Just getting a drink of water." They put their head down again, I guess. Got to the water cooler. Acted like we were getting a cup of water and just walked back out the front. 

Walked casually, but without turning around or taking too long, directly to the car. I'm sure we had a weird, maybe tense, look on our faces. The couple looked around. "It's ok?" Yeah. Luckily the the other hitchhiker came strolling out just a minute after us. He jumped in. Was going on about all the questions he had to answer. Destinations. Had to prove he had enough money with him. We sure as hell didn't and we had no plans or destination, besides all that other stuff. The Vietnam War was still on and Canada was a destination of choice.

The couple turned forward and pulled out of the spot. Fuck. Now we still had to go back in the line. The original cop guy came back over to car, all friendly though. Leaned his head in the window again. Looked at the back seat and asked "Everything Ok?" with a smile. Yeah. Everything's ok. He smiled and said to enjoy our time in Canada. Holy shit. Off we went. Kept turning around and looking for a cop car or something. Never saw one. I don't know if the cops ever knew what happened. Or if they did, how long it took before they figured it out.

48 You may be liable for any unauthorized use of this card

So we're heading in the direction of Vermont. A little bit of back tracking. That's ok. No big deal. This is still the first day. I remember the driver offered us bananas. Always eat free food, never know what's gonna happen next. Did we ever drink water? I don't think so. Coffee. Milk.

I think we ended up on the outskirts of Brattleboro. About a two hour drive. It was kind of late to be walking the streets of semi-rural Vermont, but we spotted a motel with its neon signs all lit up. It's hard to believe now but back then many, many places only rented rooms to married couples. Also, all we had as ID were our birth certificates. We didn't have drivers licenses either. No pictures on them anyway. What am I talking about? You didn't have to show ID in 1972. So LBJ went in with some of the $35 and came out with a key. I was hiding behind some bushes.

I don't know if this was it, but it might have been.

We wanted to get out of there early, before anyone saw that I was in there too. Didn't want to cough up any more money. I guess LBJ had to say it was just him. 

I had been to Vermont before with my older sister. She was twenty years older and her daughters were more like cousins to me than nieces. We went up in the summer to a ski lodge owned by an old army buddy of my brother-in-law. Like "White Christmas" but it was the Korean War. It was closed to the public in the summer so my nieces and I got a lot of exploring done. We went for walks off the property and found the most beautiful area. There was a forest with white birch trees filled with huge green ferns. So dense. The ferns were so thick they almost made the air look green. To make it even more beautiful, there were large boulders of white marble. I fell in love. Beyond that magic, there was an old wagon trail through there. So old that trees had taken root in the center. Where the wheels had dug in were going to take a lot more years to blow away. I could only imagine... in my mind I was hoping it was an old route that The Green Mountain Boys had taken.

The ferns were much denser. The trees were white.

 

I don't remember every driver that picked us up, but I remember the next one. The nicest lady ever. If you had seen us out on the road you would have known we weren't out to hurt anyone. Just a couple of people out there on an adventure. People? I'm being modest. We stood out in the crowd. 😊

 

Couldn't find any photos of marble boulders in nature. Probably all part of countertops across the country now. 😢

I forget the reason she was driving from Brattleboro to her home in Portland, Maine. She didn't tell us and we didn't ask. We didn't care of course and no need to be nosy. Nobody asked us digging questions either. Everyone was enjoying the ride. Maybe not everyone, but in general definitely more relaxed.

 

Nobody I know. But it looks like the part of Portland we were in.

 

We pulled into her neighborhood. It wasn't really like part of the city. It was outlying. Full of old houses converted to apartments. I remember it was a white house and her apartment was cute. Everything was old but in perfect order. Knick knacks. Pillows. She was lonely. Give her a nice name, I forget it. We stayed in her place all day and we talked about what there was to find out there. She made us sandwiches and tea in fancy cups. The conversations went on. She brought out some marijuana in the evening and we laughed about things. I think she had it saved for a special occasion. She was very excited about what laid out before us.

She got the living room floor comfortable for us and we slept. In the morning we heard her crying as she hung up the phone. She was practically sobbing. We felt so bad. "What happened?" "I was fired. They fired me." We had learned the night before that she was a librarian. Not sure which one for sure, but it was downtown. They fired her for not going into work the day before. When we were there. 😟 Oh no. She told us not to feel bad. She really didn't want to go into work. We wanted to do something for her but she wanted us to get on the road... because that's what she wanted to do. More than once we ran into people that wanted to do the same thing. We're early in the trip here for sure, though. She made us a couple of sandwiches and insisted we take her sleeping bag. She really insisted. It was a mummy sleeping bag and only one of us could fit at a time. They'll be stories about that bag. She was so kind, I hope things turned out for her.

Old library in Portland, Maine.

47 This is the best part of the trip, this is the trip Part 2

 

So we finally pulled into New Haven. The two up front said something to one another on occasion. I sure as hell couldn't hear anything they were saying. All I could do was deal with the g force of the wind on my hair for an hour. I couldn't possibly give justice to what happened to my hair. It was spun upside down. It was around. Inside out. I should have taken bets on how many knots were snaked around in there. Yeah, Medusa.

Neither us us were ever in New Haven. It's not like we checked it out with plans of going to Yale. We did know it from Peace Frog. Found that extremely cool and probably sang it out loud a couple of times.
 

Jim Morrison was also the first Rock n' Roller arrested mid performance in New Haven. I don't know who the other ones are. 🤔😊

 

I don't remember exactly where we were let off, but we found our way to a park type area. Looked like there were some free spirited types hanging around. We ate peanut butter and jelly. I spent hours pulling, ripping at and brushing my rat's nest of hair. A few tears welled up in my eyes, but they didn't fall. I gathered myself and looked about. It seemed as though everyone was really tame. A few salutations but nothing super friendly. I guess that was the Yale town influence.

We figured... ok, not looking good to find a place to stay or anything. We better move on. Somehow, even though we were headed west we kept getting rides going in the opposite direction. We didn't have a map. None of that electronic stuff, thank God, so we were flying by the seat of our pants.

Got out onto a main road and threw our thumbs out. Next stop Boston. We got there in the early evening. It was still light out. We didn't know where the hell we were. Luckily it was summer and it was still light out. We're walking down the street looking around. There seemed to be a lot of younger people walking around. Making a lot of noise. I also remember distinctly someone walking with a transistor radio. They were holding it up listening to Saturday In The Park by Chicago. Released like five days earlier. Funny what you remember, but that was a weird scene. All the young people milling about. The song. But everyone seemed a little on edge.

So we asked someone what was going on. Well apparently we were dropped off somewhere near the Boston Garden. Lots of concerts were held there in the 70's. Basketball too. This was July 18, 1972. The guy tells us "a Rolling Stones concert." What? "A Rolling Stones concert." We just kind of looked at him. "They were arrested."

I guess the story is that Jagger and Richards got into a scuffle with a photographer in Rhode Island. 

Damn it. I'd say "this sucks" but I really don't think people really used that much then. A little later. We had to get outta there. There was trouble brewing and at this point we needed some sleep and some food. And we didn't need that kind of trouble. We found the entrance to a highway and off we went. We were developing a pattern. Car pulls over. "Where you going?" "California." This time the guy said Vermont. I loved Vermont.

Near Boston Garden. July 18, 1972

46 This is the best part of the trip, this is the trip

Here's the part of the story where there are going to be gaps in what I remember. I mean more gaps. My dad at one point was encouraging me to write a book about some of the things that happened. In my mind that was something to be done later in life... closer to the ending. I should have listened to him. He was super smart too. The library could hardly keep him in books. About one book a day. I think I need hypnosis to bring back anything more than what's popping out. 

So here on out for a while, the stories might be short bursts and maybe out of order. 

It was time to go. I don't remember exactly how we decided on a day. Maybe it was the day I had $35.00. That's all we had. $35.00. I had a Pan Am airplane bag with just a couple of things. Maybe one change of clothes rolled up and shoved in there. I was wearing my super worn out jeans with patches from one end to the other. My red halter top with my light blue one in the bag. Wearing my roman sandals. The kind that wrap around your leg. No heel. Authentic. I called them my Jesus sandals. How do I remember? When you basically have no clothes... you remember.

Not them. Closet I could find. They were all brown. No white thread.

He had (gonna have to give him a fake initial or something... how about LBJ. He'd like that.) an army laundry bag. Just a couple of things in it, if anything. So we used that bag for our jars of peanut butter and jelly, bread and a butter knife.

We had no plan. Just that we were going to California. Don't tell friends. Get away from the bad guys and the police. The whole crappy scene. 

We left super early on July 18, 1972. How do I remember the date? I certainly wouldn't except that we kind of ran into a little historical event on that first, very long day. I snuck out of the house and LBJ was waiting in the backyard. It wasn't a very far walk to get to a main road that would get us off Long Island. But we thought "What if someone sees us hitching?" So we decided to take the bus into New York. It didn't cost very much back then. Must have transferred somewhere and ended up at The Port Authority of New York. Don't remember exactly.

Well, what do we do now? I'm not sure how much the bus to California was, but we had no intentions of doing that. We were hitchhiking. Oh. The Port Authority in those days was not in a very great neighborhood. Basically Times Square in 1972. Oh hello. How many people drove? I don't know what we were thinking.

The Terminal Bar. Across the street from the Port Authority.

But we put our thumbs out and an angel answered. Some dude in a sports car. Kind of like what Benjamin drove in The Graduate. He pulled over. "Where you going?" "California." "Well, I'm not going that far. I'm going to New Haven." We looked at each other and jumped in. LBJ got in the front seat, probably because he could fit there, and I got in the back. If you could call that tiny space a back seat. Oh, did I tell you it was a convertible and the top was down?

So off we go. Super fast. Yeah, my hair was super long too. Below my waist. Why didn't anyone tell this bubbleheaded blonde to do something. I didn't have a rubber band, but maybe I could have wrapped something around my head. 76 miles. Should be about an hour and a half, but this guy was flying at supersonic speed. I'm guessing an hour.