It was the summer of 1969. On a warm summer night, about 2 o'clock in the morning, 4 friends sat drinking beer in a remote area. We were all teens and pretty buzzed. Just laughing and cutting up. Four young guys without many redeeming characteristics.
So, my three mates and I were bemoaning the boredom of living in a small southern town. You've probably heard it yourself, the whole "This town is dead" routine. At length someone said, "Heck, we should just go to Florida and live." This idea was accepted with enthusiasm. Visions of beaches (and women), clubs (and women), parties (and women) must have filled our heads. This seemed kind of epic at the time because at that time people really didn't travel that much. Nowadays, Spring Break is an annual rite of passage. In our drunken condition, we just decided to do it. So, we stopped by the driver's house and told his folks. "We're leaving this hick town forever." His Mom cried and his Dad laughed his butt off.
At any rate, we left in my friend's Camaro. It was a 1969 model with a 350 CI motor and a Hurst 4 speed. My buddy was a great driver. He was great at speed-shifting that big V-8. I couldn't count the times we out-ran the police. Yes, in answer to your question, there was at least one of us with a pack of Marboros rolled up in the sleeve of his tee shirt.
We drove all night long, what little of the night was left, then well into the next day. We took turns driving and sleeping, so it wasn't a problem. We stopped in Jacksonville Beach for the simple reason that one place was as good as another for a bunch of stupid guys seeking fun.
It was my first look at the ocean and from that day to this I've loved the sea. It was such a thrill for me, to see the scope and magnitude of it. Yeah, I know, it seems pathetic now, the way everyone gets to travel, but it was cool for me. We stayed at a Mom and Pop motel on the beach. There were no such things as chain motels or restaurants in those days. By the way, cigarettes were 25 cents a pack and gas was around 19 cents a gallon, I think.
Since it is not germane to the story, I won't bore you with the story of the hillbillies' activities in Florida. I do have the most vivid memory of a moment in time from the trip, however. We were cruising across a bridge by the ocean and had the radio blasting. The song was Ride Captain Ride, by The Blues Image. Wow, we had great songs and cool cars back in the day! It even made it okay to be young and stupid, with no future at all.
To make a long story short, we arrived back home in 3 or 4 days. When we walked into my buddy's house his Dad looked at us and remarked drily, "My, how you've grown!"
Reminds me of another song from another time. The song is Leader Of The Band, by the late, great Dan Fogelberg. In this song he talks about his Dad, but the part I like best goes like this:
I thank you for your wisdom and your stories of the road,
I thank you for the freedom, when it came my time to go,
I thank you for your kindness, and the times that you got tough,
And Papa I don't think I said, 'I love you' near enough.
Happy Father's day to all dads everywhere. From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
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