57 There are changes lyin ahead in every road

So this is all in the same day. We left Toronto, had that long interlude at customs, drove past Detroit and then there we were. Heading past Toledo. We certainly got to know those two kids, what the heck... we were probably near the same age, maybe they were a little older. Thank you so much. Hope everything turned out ok.

They let us out near the Ohio Turnpike. We already knew that you had to stay off the highway to hitchhike. You could pretty much locate yourself at the very bottom of an entrance ramp. Any higher you had a better chance of the cops bothering you. Off the ramp the local cops would bother you.

Did you ever hear the song "The Shape Of Things To Come" by "Max Frost?" Well, that kind of is the theme of what happened next. I guess just because it was a new experience that we kind of got used to and dug. Thumbs out. A semi-truck pulls over slowly. We look at each other and start running up to meet it. The truck driver leans over and opens the door. 'C'mon in." LBJ jumps up first, cause you know, check it out. I jump up there and skedaddle behind the seats. Kind of into the sleeping area. "Where you going?" California. He laughed. "I'm not going that far. I'm pulling into a truck stop a ways on up." Ok. Sure.

Movin' On 1974-76. Great show.

We were driving a while. Not real long but we were getting out into the country. Couldn't really see, because it was dark by then. But you could still see corn. Wow. City kids. When I was three my family took the train from New York to California. But I don't remember bupkis. Family vacations normally were maybe upstate New York. So getting out into the midwest was new to us. We were astonished by it. I think we made the trucker laugh.

I don't know where this truck stop was exactly. Might have even been in Indiana. He pulls in. And lets us out near the front. He was heading on towards the back. Now what? It was like a foreign land to us. They didn't have big truck stops on Long Island. I didn't know how it worked. Didn't pay too much attention at the time to stuff like that. But I was always interested in the working man and what he did for a living. I was just never exposed to this.

There was a big restaurant like there is at every truck stop. We still had some money left from Montreal, but we figured we better concentrate on getting a ride. There was nothing around. No hippie types to ask if we could crash at their place. I suppose we could have walked into that restaurant, but it just didn't feel like the thing to do. We were close to an entrance to the highway so we put our thumbs out every time a vehicle passed. But that wasn't a lot, even though the truck stop was right there. We weren't wearing watches. No cell phones. Maybe it was kind of late. Uh oh. It's raining. No big deal. We could handle it, but our stuff was getting wet, including that one sleeping bag. Oh that turns out good. 🤣

Getting hungry again. We did have some bananas in our bag. Pretty sure we ate at least two each, maybe more. What were we supposed to do with the peels? They're natural. There's fresh dirt around. We threw them on the ground. 

We were strong as hell. Peanut butter. Occasional milk. Coffee. Whatever. But walking. The amount of walking. Extremely healthy. A little standing in the rain forever wasn't going to hurt. It had to be well past midnight. Yapping away about dumb stuff. Excited for the new experience. Whoa. What's that? Crap. It's someone in a suit walking over towards us from the restaurant. Shit. He saw us throw the banana peels. He may ask us to move along. Maybe worse, who knows. We weren't the cowardly type. We waited for him.

He gets up to us. I really remember him looking a bit like Roman Polanski. His suit was even a little mod. Wide lapel. Bell bottoms. But a suit. Here he goes. "Hello. You're having quite a time in the rain. Aren't you?" "I thought you might be hungry and I brought you some chicken" He was the manager of the place. We had a nice little talk about how he wished he could do what we were doing. He was tired of the responsibility. Would love to just travel without worrying about his job or whatever. He felt trapped. Wanted to see the rest of the country. We talked about some of the beautiful areas we might see. Gave us a few tips about the locals. Advised us to stay off the farm property. Cause really, we were kind of dumb about some things.

He wished us luck. I think we put a smile on his face. We thanked him a lot for the chicken. It was wrapped in aluminum foil and there was quite a bit. Fried chicken. Yum. Not a big thing in New York. And then as he was walking away he turned and said "Hey. Don't worry. You can throw the bones on the ground. I'll send someone out tomorrow to clean it."

We never got a ride that night. We walked a little out of the way and moved off the road a bit and laid down on the wet sleeping bag. Thank God it eventually stopped raining.

56 A little bleary, worse for wear and tear

Hold that thought. Headed for Toledo. I have to jump out of sequence here. Something happened in the summer of 1978 that just crawls up out of nowhere.

By that time I had moved out of New York three times but ended up back in the cesspool each time. This is the day that made it final.

Before we get to it, I'd like to say it was always with the turntable, receiver, speakers, albums and maybe one frying pan. Well, after the first time. I claimed that stuff when I got back. Each time I moved though it seemed as though I lost some albums and eventually the stereo. The one real regret was leaving "The Transformed Man" in a bedroom in Colorado.

Back in the hellhole. As soon as I got back I was wondering what the hell I was doing. But stuff happens and there's no changing it.

There was one thing that made New York OK. Artsy shit and music. I was still going into Manhattan for those things. Every other weekend or so maybe? Sometimes every weekend? I had to live too, so I had to take care of that. I wasn't going to be an unhealthy soul just wandering the streets. There's been a lot of stuff between now and then. Some scenes stay there and some get cut.

I didn't take this picture of Lou Reed. I never met him.

I don't remember specifically where I was before all this happened. I remember it was a Sunday. A hot, dirty New York Sunday afternoon. I was going to leave and I was heading through Central Park. I've written about the park before. All the people that hung out. Laying down. Talking. Smoking. Smooching. I can't write the description of what New York was like. I've said this before. Check out the visuals and the movies.

I hated disco. Rock n' roll was taking a hit. Too much stuff you heard had to have that beat. People started dispersing. Gone to other states. Or absorbed by it. I had good friends that were going to those stupid clubs. The places where I had gone to see live music were turned into disco nightmares. Why do I even bring that up? In the park people were still pretty much listening to better music on their radios. There was still a segment that rebelled against what was being pushed down their throats.

I'm tired. I'm hot. I'll admit I remember being thirsty. I was wearing super tight white pants. Jesus. In that filth. Let me tell you it's always been jeans for me. Every day of my life, but not that day. I was starting to feel crappy. I was having that tunnel vision realization that everything around me completely sucked.

Dragging myself through a field. People were laying on their blankets. Radios were on loud. I hear "The Girl With The Faraway Eyes." I don't know about where you lived, but The Stones were on the airwaves a lot in NY. They got copies of albums and 45's probably before anyone else. It wasn't digital then, you know.

Probably my least favorite song of theirs ever. I know he meant well, or maybe not, but that accent. Mick, no good. Now it will go down in history as possibly my least favorite song ever. I associate it with that day. The view of the grime I had and New Yorkers listening to this song. No thanks. I was almost falling over. Well, here's what did it. You ladies will empathize. I suddenly and unexpectedly got my period. In my very tight white pants. I know nowadays people let all kinds of things hang out and what not, but many people were still somewhat embarrassed to buy tampons at that time. Our older sisters. Just to let you where peoples heads were at. This kind of personal bodily function wasn't plastered all over advertisements on TV quite yet. So I'm walking through Central Park feeling shitty with nicely sized red stains in my crotch.

It wasn't like Amazon could deliver tampons or a change of clothing. This was my fate till I got home. And that's what I was doing. I wasn't spending anymore time in the city. It wouldn't have helped to go into Tiffany's to ask for a "napkin." I would have been escorted out. I suppose I could have looked for something. A shirt to tie around my waist or something. But maybe I didn't have much money with me. No credit cards except for the fancy people.

I head down the stairs to the subway. Get on my train. The shitty dirty train with creeps on it. Punks.

If they were cool punks maybe there could have been mutual respect. But these were punky punks. Giving me a time. You know the verbal harassment stuff you've seen. Kind of sniffing around. I knew better than to show fear. That makes it worse. No eye contact, but not I didn't hold my head in a submissive downward tilt. Just kind of normal. The whole time I'm thinking "just get me out of this. I'll never live like this again. Ever."

Maybe they were intimidated. A lot of the cave people (I love real cavemen. I just don't know how to describe them without calling them dumb and ignorant) were grossed out by that stuff then. You know, a dirty woman. Eventually went through enough stops that people got on and they got off. I got home and it was just I'm outta here after that. I know I wasn't physically abused, but it was enough of a psychological nightmare it did my relationship with New York in. It's all cumulative.

55 Cause it's a long long way to paradise

There's a highway that heads straight on in to Detroit and that's what we took. We weren't driving, not sure the name or number. We got picked up by a brother and sister heading back on into the states. I didn't write anything down. Wasn't sure what the future was. I'm going to say over and over again what kinds of great awesome people that we met. All kinds. LBJ & I were told over and over, people wishing they were us. Wishing that they would just head on out.

These two were farm kids. Wanting to hear a few stories but we really wanted to hear their stories too. I tried to let them know how much I would have liked living on the farm. Long Island hippies wanting to escape.

It was a pretty long ride. Four hours from Toronto. We had to go through a tunnel from Windsor, Canada. But this time we weren't so lucky crossing the border. So nice and they got screwed over because we were in the car with them. Out to help.

It goes without saying that LBJ had long hair. Fluffy too, so it would bounce and fly in the breeze. That freak flag. And my clothes. Customs asks the brother and sister. OK. "Are they with you?" "We picked them up hitchhiking." "I'm going to need you to pull the car over there." We pulled the car over and they took the keys. We all had to go inside.

Those poor kids. The sister was kind of upset. I apologized to them. They weren't upset with us but they were flabbergasted by what was going on. So they pulled us inside and luckily we still had ID. Just paper birth certificates, but life was so much easier before the "information age" hit. I swear we would have been a kinder humanity if we hadn't taken a bite of that apple.

They stuck us in a room looking out on an automobile garage of sorts. We sat there for three hours. They took every part of that car apart. All the panels. Everything. They took the tires off and checked inside them. I remember the sister crying "What are they doing to my car?' I guess we fit the "MO" for the French Connection? Also, is the car ever the same again?

I don't remember the customs people being very friendly at all. After they were done with car they said we could go. We didn't have any drugs on us. Even we weren't that stupid. LBJ & I were "producing" bricks the whole time cause we weren't sure what else was going on. 

We just got the hell out of there. We were starving and so were they. The peanut butter, jelly and white bread was intact from the search. We shared and didn't stop. That's right. We didn't have water bottles with us. We were able to have a cup of water from one of those water cooler things in the station.

Drove straight through Detroit. Not one inkling to stop. Looking out the window at the highways and buildings. Pavement eternal. Those two took good care of us and Godspeed to them.

We were headed to Toledo and then we were splitting up. What a day. They were heading east and we were heading west.

54 You better duck down the alley way part 3

I don't know how we made it home.There were a lot of joints. I guess we followed the leader. I was nearly trippin' in that theater. Peoples heads were bobbing up and down one at a time. I could hear conversations and voices from every single person there.

Woke up the next morning and said "Let's get out of here." Yeah, Toronto was funky cool but a little too much like New York for us. I was sick of dirty streets. I didn't want gritty anymore. Sorry but I was looking for beauty, peace and love. Go with the dream. 

Lover of Rat Fink

Fine. Had some coffee. I'm pretty sure they sent us off with some kind of food. We thanked them profusely and we always cleaned up after ourselves. Out the door we go, all of us. I could feel the continuing secretiveness. They were all clammed up. But adios. Hope you have a good life. Always remember you.

Oh, yoicks. About three blocks away LBJ noticed he forgot his wallet. Shit. No license or modern days cards of any type, but his birth certificate and a little money were in it. We had to go back. Shit. So we get there and the door is locked. Nowadays you'd say of course, but not everyone locked their door then. What are we going to do? We stood there kind of freaked. We didn't want to wait all day for them to come back. We wanted out of there. I suppose many people would have done just that, but whatever.

LBJ was a little more street smart and assured me he could open the door with one swift kick. He put down his bag and kind of leaned back. Just as he was lifting his leg, the dude came back and yelled "Hey!!" Whew. Was this good or bad? He came running up there with an understandably pissed face. "Hey man. I left my wallet in there. That's all." But if it came down to it LBJ would have had no problem with him, unless the guy had a weapon of some sort.

He opened the door and the wallet was by the couch. I imagine the fella felt better that we weren't common thieves. It would put a crimp in his people trusting skills. This time we high tailed it out of there.

The quickest and easiest way out of Canada and into the US was through Detroit. We had a very long day ahead of us.

Hitchhikers. Toronto. 1970's.

53 You better duck down the alley way part 2

So did I listen to the old drunk? I never paid him no mind about the blue eye warning. Matter/Anti Matter to my pools of mud. Just always remembered his screaming blue eyes yelling me a warning.

To this day I think there was something up with our Toronto hosts. Who knows. Maybe it was any number of things, but still. Maybe they helped out draft dodgers. But, it was something.

So the second night we were there we ate something and talked a little bit about the day. I will always come away from that as it being so strange. They welcomed us but were so quiet.

Toronto. 1970's.

"Hey, we're going to see a new movie. Fritz the Cat. You want to go along?" "Oh yeah. I've heard of that. Yeah." I don't remember them having an accent of any kind, but I didn't think I did either. If you heard me you might think I had pebbles in my mouth.

We walked to the theater with them. I don't think it was too far away. They met up with a very small group and it was understood that we were a little off on our own there. They hung with their friends and we sat behind them.

Not the theater

Back in 1972 smoking was everywhere, including movie theaters. Toronto was pretty similar to New York. People whipped out their weed. They kept passing the joints back so we all got wasted. I think everyone in the theater was wasted. A lot of laughing going on. Rip roaring laughter. Almost psychotic.

Times have really changed a lot with what is shocking in movies and TV. Things starting changing a little before then. An X rating for a cartoon. But there was a lot of sex and drugs in the movie, from what I remember. I only saw it the once. I have a better memory of Midnight Cowboy when it came out. I was of sound mind and fake ID. What would that be now? PG-13 maybe? Maybe R.

The guy smiled pretty big through the movie, but the gal was laughing hysterically. I'm glad she let it out once in a while. Got a lot of laughs in that night too. Pretty fun. 

Yonge Street or "Sin Strip." Known for it's exploitation theaters.

52 You better duck down the alley way

Most of the time we didn't know what road we were on. Just went by which way people told us to go. Heading west, it was a straight shot to Toronto. Wasn't our destination, but we got dropped there. Not everyone that picked us up left a long lasting impression. Probably because we didn't have any deep conversations, just stuff like the usual. Over and over. "Where are you going?" "California."

Toronto was the opposite of Montreal at the time, from what we saw. It's not like we ended up in the business district. Pretty seedy, but a hell of a lot of character.

It took about six hours to make the trip and after living outside for a while, we just wanted to rest up a little before we re-entered the US. All these little things that we do, that send us in whatever direction we end up. I think it was LBJ that asked a couple walking by where there might be a good place to go "crash." They looked at us and then each other and said, "We live around the block. C'mon over." Is that even conceivable now?

Ok. So we walked with them, I guess behind them. Pretty silent. I don't know the name of the neighborhood, but it was a bunch of old row houses. They all looked pretty original but worn down. The way I like them.

Definitely shittier than these

I remember the landing for the front door was really worn wood. The inside of the place was perfectly old. Worn floors. A couple of couches in the living room. No TV. A kitchen with an old table and chairs. They offered us sandwiches and we talked a little in the kitchen. We never talked about things in New York, just about how we wanted to get out of there. But they liked talking politics. That was ok. I could handle myself in those discussions then. We were all pretty leftie and talked the war and Nixon.

We immediately knew that these two were off in a direction further than we were. I'm going to do a poor job describing them but let me try. Humorless. Dour. I had seen a few people like this in New York. They had that look. Not very colorful clothes. Plain. Serious. The fella wore black horn rimmed glasses and the gal really did most of the talking. Whatever talking there was. We smoked some grass and then they plainly said we could take over the couches, but they had people coming over. Alright.

Maybe three or four people came over and went right into the kitchen. Didn't hear a peep out of them. It was strange. We were tired but were quietly discussing what we were thinking. Why would people that were having radical discussions in the kitchen have a couple of dumb kids in the front room? Because "Power to the People." It was their duty to help out the people. And we looked far out enough they felt they could they could trust us. And they could. We just wanted the couches.

None of this is certain, but I think I can sense things about people. LBJ was pretty street wise too. This is just all speculation. I don't remember the first names only that they gave us.

This is just a representation. Kind of like the two on the right, but just an example.

Knocked out on the couches. Woke up in the morning to coffee and the gal saying they were leaving for the day. We had to leave too but could come back after a certain time. Leave our stuff. We were up to exploring the city.

It was the funkiest. It was grimy and seedy, but awesome. Lots of old buildings. 

I vividly remember one block. It was like a drunken bums heaven. Dumpy bars and strip joints. Walking up in the middle of the road because there were bums sitting against the buildings. One topless joint had a painted window with an open circle that you could look through and maybe get a sample. Right about there a super drunk older fella came running out at us. Right up to me. He grabbed me and looked me right in the eyes. His eyes were bright blue, his face was wrinkled and he had white hair and a beard. Drunk. "He's got blue eyes. Never marry him. He'll do you wrong. Never marry a man with blue eyes." I didn't say anything. LBJ didn't say anything. He went back to the sidewalk and we kept walking. I'll never forget him and always wondered what he did.