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.