Readers, this a fictional road story set in the 1980's, before cell phones and the internet as we know it today. All sexualized characters are fictional and over 18. This is part one of what I hope will be a many part series. This is my first story here and I hope you enjoy.
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In the early Spring of 1987, I launched my adventure on the road. I was twenty-four and recently laid off from my now out of business former employer. I'd spent the last six months preparing to hit the road to follow my favorite jam band and its hippie caravan across North America. I'd planned to stay out on the road as long as I had fun and if the car and money held out.
For money, I'd spent the time since rumors of my former employers' purchase preparing. I'd worked all the hours I could to save. I'd sold my companies stock at a pre-sale rumor high before it dropped like a stone. In the end I was able to hit the road with almost $30,000 in the bank.
For wheels I'd purchased a 1972 Ford Galaxie 500 station wagon, with less than 60,000 miles on her. She was white with a blue interior and had no rust or damage. Classic "little old lady car". I'd paid $1000.00 for her and had my buddy's shop put another $1500.00 into her for new tires, carburetor rebuild, gaskets, transmission service, suspension upgrade, along with an icy AC and new fans to get heat and cooling all around the large car.
I'd also had some secrets added to the interior of the car and under the hood, to stash valuable things like weed, money, tools, and tickets. I finished her off with a new stereo and speakers, to give me good sound for the trip.
In the months I'd been anticipating my extended vacation I'd ordered four tickets for each show on the spring tours which ran until the end of June. I knew there was no way I'd get all the tickets I'd ordered but hoped to have enough extra's either for trade or to "miracle" people with. I'd vowed I would not sell any of my tickets for cash, since I had money already and was planning to pay my way on the road selling hot dogs and beer if the cops weren't hassling people about that.
This being the 1980's I'd called a national campground chain and spent an hour and a half on the phone laying out prepaid camping reservations near each stop on the tour, leaving a few travel days when I'd grab a hotel room to get a real bed for the night. I had a new 10-foot X 12-foot tent, good sleeping bag, a full-size air mattress to sleep on, and if it was too hot, cold, or rainy out the air mattress was a perfect fit for the back of the station wagon.
In late March of 1987, I hit the road to Virginia, two hours from my apartment, with my roommate Max and his girlfriend Darla following in their car. I'd prepaid rent and bills with Max for six months and I'd given him tickets for these local shows. This way I knew my stuff was safe and I had a place to return to when and if I needed to.
We got to the campground two hours before the concert parking lot opened and set up our tents so we could all just crash after the show. The lot opened as we arrived, and I'd set up selling hot dogs and beer with Max. I'd had two extra tickets for the three shows in Virginia and within the first hour I'd traded one of the tickets for today's show for quarter ounce of nice-looking weed.
I'd made a sunshade and mount to fit into the wagon's roof racks and open tailgate along with two old beach umbrellas added for good shade in the back. We had set up two chairs and a small folding table with the grill nearby and coolers in the back at the tailgate. We sat there for the six hours before the show meeting all kinds of cool people, having a couple of beers, and sneaking to the front seat for a couple of quick hits from the bowl.
The show was great, once we got inside with four hours of music and dancing with thousands of your close new friends and some ones you knew before today. Out in the lot after the show we ate a few more hot dogs and had some water and OJ to rehydrate after all the dancing and smoking inside the arena.
The next two shows were much like the first except for a light cool rain on the second day. I'd given my spare ticket for the third show to a cute hippie chick with a sign looking for a for a miracle an hour before the third show. We had a good time dancing the whole show together and even made out a bit during the slow drum and jam portion of the show.
After we left the show, she went to find the friends she had come to the show with. I'd told her if she or her friends needed a ride to find me where I'm parked before with the white station wagon, but I never saw her again.
The next day I got up, packed up, and took down the tent, said goodbye to Max and Darla, as I took off for the next two shows in Connecticut starting the next day.
I arrived in Connecticut and stayed in a crazy hotel with a giant Teepee in front an hour from the camp site. Woke up early the next day after some good bed rest and went to the campground I'd made reservations at and set up my tent and bed for after the show. On my twenty-five-mile ride to the show I'd stopped for beer, hot dogs, and anything else I'd need for the day.
I'd found a spot to set up my grill and stuff in a lot next to people I'd been across the aisle from at the last show in Virginia. The day was sunny but there was a cool breeze, so you needed your jacket. The heat from the grill was welcome.
Although alone, I'd left my tailgate open and table with both chairs set up. After about half an hour the guy I'd traded the ticket for weed with in Virginia came strolling by. He saw the white wagon and plopped down in the empty chair.
"That green was awesome, I'd said, and I'm looking for more if it was as good. I also have some tickets to trade for other shows on the tour." I showed Joe a piece of paper from my wallet that was a show chart with three blank places on it. One in Philadelphia, one in Chicago and one in California. I had six spare pairs of tickets for various shows and two tickets for each show. I said may want to do something with those but hoped to find someone cool to share them with along the way.
I gave Joe a Molson and a Hot Dog as he took out a pencil and wrote down the spare dates I had, and the shows I needed. If he found me the shows, I'd give him a free set to do what he wanted with. "I will find you those three shows no problem," looking at second small sheet of his own. "I got two pairs set already and the California show will be no problem."
"I'll buy the spares for the first Worcester show for myself." he said, and I told him to keep his money and they were his for all his help.
"Can you watch my grill for a moment, while I get the tickets?" I'd asked him and I went to the front of the car and got the tickets he needed for the trade plus the two Worcester tickets. I handed him the four tickets he needed for the trades and the Worcester show tickets for him. He was a little shocked that I gave him his tickets before he made the trades and gave me a hug as I'd went to clasp his hand.
I'd asked if he wanted another beer, but Joe said no, but asked if I had any water? I told him there were two gallons in the cooler and new cups on the back seat and to help himself as some people came up for food. He came back in a moment with a full cup of water and a smile. Joe leaned in to tell me quietly there was a surprise for me in the cooler and "I'd better not let it get wet in there."
With that he was off into the crowd as four more people came up for Hot Dogs.
Ten minutes, eight hot dogs, and twelve Molson's later, (Molson was popular there) I got back to the cooler to find a quarter ounce of bright green pot and a smaller bag of long stemmed, small capped mushrooms. I'd quickly stashed the bags in the zippered inner pocket of my jean jacket and got a large cup of water and some more hot dogs for the grill with a wide grin on my face.
The next hour passed briskly as I'd sold all but my last six beers that were kept for personal use.