It seemed like a pretty good idea at first, but then don’t they all. I came to the conclusion years ago that it was a lot easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, and eventually my handlers realized I had a steep learning curve, often ending abruptly in tears or stitches. This one ended in debt, both monetary and societal. As I said, my impulse control is non-existent, so off I went on a six week tour to follow the Dead. In March of my senior year. Although etching itself on my own “permanent record” this did nothing for my grades or prospects of getting into college considering my interviews were scheduled during that time. It was the only east coast tour that year and word was that it might be their last. That tour they brought out St. Stephen, Deal and Jackstraw and if you weren’t there I can give you the tape because I digitized them. They even did The Eleven in Charleston. I learned three important things on that trip: Always carry an extra twenty in your shoe, call your mother from every state, and unclean women, though fun, leave a lasting impression.
Her name was Laura Star (stay with me kids, everyone had a noun in their name then) and she was magnificent. And easy. I rode in her car through three states before I started itching. A fellow head I’d met in Boston and was following the same trail laughed when I asked him and told me about Quell and because he was older I took his advice on how to “lose her” at that night’s show. I became a remora then, as my bike was back in Boston and we were in Philly at the time, leaving me no option but to find another ride. This time was three college guys in a Volvo wagon who were so stoned I didn’t know how they made it to Albany, but they did. That is where I jumped ship to get to Boston and reclaim the bike. Too bad it wasn’t there.
Pomarrazo’s place was not really in Boston but was in Malden, which is part of Boston but not really. Don’t ask me, that’s what I was told. I was a little bummed when I didn’t find it behind his garage where I’d left it under a tarp covered with full trash bags (Boston anti-theft device) or in his garage (occupied solely by his mother’s Buick). Joey was at work, so I kind of lurked for a few hours in the way uncomfortable bumpkins do when surrounded by concrete. He was surprised to see me sitting on the curb, and after a bit offered up that my brother had come and took the bike. No good bastard left me high on the rocks. Joey let me have it with both barrels then (Catholic boys) about not calling my mother for a long time and going AWOL and why was he supposed to make excuses for me and why couldn’t I grow up and blah, blah, blah. This was not turning out good. I called mom from Joey’s house and told her I was on the way home. I lied. I was going to my brother’s place and reclaim my steed.
My thumb proved to be the most frugal means of transportation at that point and the Guy in the Saab who was cranking Little Feat who picked me up was headed to Hampton Beach, where there was a Leslie West concert that night. Sorry mom. We were standing outside the Casino about an hour before the show (I gave my last Jackson for a ticket earlier) passing a joint when the cops decided to rain down on us like brown shirts on Anne Frank. I called my brother to throw my bail and wound up riding bitch on my own bike all the way home. Luckily the offense was a weekend in the Granite State picking the highways clean (no deposit back then.)
Now, whenever I head out I at least tell someone where I’m going. I don’t have a cell phone but everyone else does, making contact easier with my wife (and mom if I’m going near her). Inflation being what it is, I try to stash a Franklin in my shoe for the “unforeseen circumstances.” These are habits now even though the reasons are different. The dead are gone, so is the bike, and I don’t do the stupid human tricks that lead to incarceration anymore, but the “unforeseen circumstances” still pop up. I do, however, hold firmly and steadfast to the idea that it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
More an effect or results essay than a cause essay--you're giving what you learned as a result of your vacation, not reasons for anything exactly. Well, there is an effect essay in your future so this is not wasted effort. When it's ready, you could submit it instead of cause and write the cause when everyone else is writing effect.
ReplyDeleteI want another intro though--that's an assignment for next week, and when you write it, think of this: you have some ideas about me at this point and are to some extent trading on those ideas and aiming this at your primary audience. But what if instead of me, my wife is going to be your reader? What part of what you wrote would work for her, what part would not?
Write an intro graf for my wife, an unknown, not a lowest common denominator, but not me either.