JPG Magazine: MsB

Monday, January 21, 2008

Just little ole me in 1971


Luci Blu and I are curled up on my bed, listening to some vaguely familiar violin concerto. As I read the blogs I am transported to other places and other times. I am especially intrigued by the LA stories. They send me back in time too a place....

...when I was really thinking I had life by the tail. After all the insanity that had transpired in Denver, circa 1970, I headed out to California. with my best g-friend, Silver. We tossed a coin-NYC or LA. It 10 degrees in NYC that day, same as Denver. And it was balmy in LA. They had just had a big earth quake and for us, earthquakes sounded so exotic, adventurous, something to behold.

So off we went with our well practiced thumbs in tow and a few changes of cloths, our best hippy shit. We had friends there. They had been in Denver last year stirring up many prankster adventures that quite tickled our fancy. They told us stories of the Strip, the Whiskey, the pacific ocean, Pandora's box, riots, luv -ins.....We were captives of our vivid imaginations.

We would head south first and catch the better weather. By the time we hit Raton Pass a blizzard had stopped us in our tracks. We were stranded in a Mom and Pops taco shop, along with 6 other stranded travelers who, I might add, had been there camping on the floor for a few days, due to the inclement weather. They had been all put to work for their room and board, cleaning the place spic and span. Cleaning, dear readers, was not Silver and my forté.

Just about that time a big brougham Cadillac with Mexican plates pulled in. The two Vaquero's driving were long tall talking about that Caddy. No pinchi snow storm would stop them even for a minute. Mexico City was their home and they had been away far to long. they certainly could extend the hospitaliy of the caddy to a couple off lovely ladies such as Silver and I.

By the time we got to Santa Fe it was dinner time and Mariachi time and then, of course bedtime. As we were always up for an adventure we would worry about the bedtime thing later. We had plenty of tricks up our sleeves. And what a wild wonderful time we had. These two loco boys from Mexico really new how to party. And I, the sheltered girl from Podunk, USA was absolutely taken with the cultural diversity, not to mention the tequila.

And as the evening wore on and that sticky subject of sleep started to hang thick in the air, the question was posed. We were lucky chickie's that evening. Even though we were as far from ladies as two young girls could be, we weren't ready for an amorous tryst with these much older men. And again luck would be on us and the two men turned out to be real gentlemen and got us a room of our own and a ride the next day to Albuquerque where we would part ways. We did consider heading to MC with them but we figured not knowing the language might be a hindrance to our ability to have fun.

It was cold in Albuquerque, our poor little thumbs were about to crack. And then a shiny white vehicle pulled over and hmmmm , what did they say? Get in? They were a couple of guys from Cuba??? and as we didn't speak the language and they had a rather sketchy handle on our lanuage, much was missed. but it was a ride. LA is a word we all understood. We were heading to Hollywood where our friends lived and they were going to Long Beach. I tryed to see how that looked on the map. Unfortunately the map was in my head. And my head was hung over.

We ended up in Bell Gardens, somewhere in South Central Los Angeles at a gas station at 3 a.m. We tryed to figure out how we could get out of these seemingly unsafe neighborhood. Found a map on the gas station wall. Geezz... the attendant was nothing but negative, thought we were nuts. A truck pulled in and he was going to the loading docks in downtown LA. He said he could get a load going our way and drop us off. So may hours later, we were dropped off at our friends house by Gardner and Santa Monica. What a sight we were, frazzled and quite askew, Climbing out off a Peterbilt. Style'n baby, Styl'n.

And so begins eight years off the wildest, craziest, years of my life. I still have many fond memories of those years. Or maybe it is just euphoric recall. But every time I've been back I always leave longing to stay. But other adventures have always taken priority. They say you can never go back. I wouldn't know because I never have, accept as a tourist.

12 comments:

My Other Blog said...

When I was younger and foolisher, I used to hitch-hike, too! Had 1 bad episode, where I had to get out of a car in the middle of a busy intersection. This is not something I think about every day. This post brought it all back to me...
Jingle Bells at my funeral - why not?

msb said...

Yep, sometimes hitchhiking could get rather dicey. But I had become quite good at resolving sticky situations. One way or another.

Don said...

Wow. Every weekend I looked out the car window at all the hitchhikers trying to get to San Fran, down there at the foot of University Ave in Berkeley. Mom wouldn't pick any up. Later, older, I was too shy and risk averse and the culture had moved on to disco and cocaine and I never did want a place in that. Can I sit at your feet and hear more stories? This year I turn fifty, I am hoping to make it a dangerous year, midlife schmidlife, I don't care, but no hitchhiking.

Don said...

Yeah, okay, I'm a dork. Well, trying to be an open book. That there's a very pretty picture.

msb said...

Don, my remedy for turning 50 was go sky diving and buy a Harley. NO hitching for sure.

Roy said...

I loved reading this. I must have driven through, about that time. May have missed you by months, but that was close, astronomically speaking. What a great picture.

Marc said...

I think you need to retitle that entry simply "Youth."
Wonderful.
(I may just have to tell the story of Sophie and me hitching from Southern France to Holland in 1976)

thejunkyswife said...

You look so pretty there!

My Other Blog said...

You were hot in 1971 - weren't we all? I'd like to go skydiving when I turn 60, if I make it till then. (I'd probably break a hip when I land!)

jb said...

Hell I'd just like to hitch to LA when I hit 60.... this is stuff a mere Brit would dream of..in a clod damp east Lancashire mill town, struggling to find a few coins for a bit of puff....LA or the west coast was another planet just beyond our solar system....going to London to score was the big dream .....regards jb

JUST ANOTHER ADDICT said...

More stories, plz. I love to hear the bits and pieces of your story. BTW, I do read your Magdeline and also find that to be an awesome read. I never get tired of knowing where people came from.....
One more thing, we had the Harley out yesterday. It was great!
Love you!

msb said...

Oh how I miss the motorcycle. I haven't posted to Magdeline for a while. It sort of ripped me up but someday I'll take a bit more creative license with it.

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