The meaningless life story of a meandering vagabond from start to finish, and some of his adventures along the way.
*
Laying in the stark white confines of my Intensive Care Unit, with only the sounds of a ventilator pumping air through my endotracheal tube, and the visual of morphine dripping into my intravenous, my life seems to be at its end, but my life's story is much longer than that.
You see, the world as I once knew it was a vast amusement park and it had always been my playground. When it holds its big loving arms open, there is much to see and so many things to do. For any one person it would be impossible to cover it all in a lifetime. Having said that, I can honestly say that I tried my hardest to do just that.
I learned at a very young age that I wanted to see, touch and taste all that it held in store for me. My first memory was a trip to Grand Canyon when I was eight-years old. The untamed wilderness, the fresh, clean smell of the air and dirt, the raging river below, the sheer cliffs, the danger, and the spectacular views caught my attention. I was bitten by the bug right then and there. I was too young to know it, but on the my very first day at the park, my life had changed forever.
When we returned home from our family vacation, everyday became an adventure. Each trip on my bicycle was a little bit further and further from home. I wanted to see things that I'd never before witnessed.
By the time I was twelve, I would travel across the country on a Greyhound and spent my summers with distant relatives just because it was new, and they were far away. I travelled from Arizona to Buffalo. From Buffalo to Macon. From Macon to Eureka, I would have traveled anywhere just to be somewhere that I'd never been.
Just when I thought that the itch from my bite couldn't get any worse, along came the Summer of 1972. My mother thought that she was doing her 16-year old son a favor when she bought me a ticket to see Led Zeppelin in Tucson, when in fact she was putting fuel on the fire that was already growing deep inside of me.
High school graduation couldn't come soon enough for me. I had offers to attend university, but I declined all of those. Instead, on my 18
th
birthday in 1974, I purchased a 1956 Chevy Nomad wagon for $500. I kissed my mother good-bye, shook my father's hand and headed east.
My old jalopy of a car burned as much oil as it did gas, but several days later, I arrived on the coastal shores of New Jersey and came to a stop at the home of an aunt, twice removed.
The Jersey Shores were a great place for any 18-year-old to spend a summer. It had a great music scene, along with the sun and surf. This is the time and place where my life started to come together. My days of childhood wandering were behind me. Ahead of me lay the real world.
It was during the mid-point of the Dog Days of Summer that I met Jane. Jane was a twenty something hippy. She was the daughter of my aunt's best friend and her free spirit culture caught my attention.
Jane took me to see The Grateful Dead at Roosevelt Stadium and after the show, she also took my virginity.
Her apartment was shared by a number of others. Jane's bedroom consisted of a mattress thrown on the floor and a large number of pillows shattered about. The walls were lined with psychedelic neon posters glowing under the black lights, along with concert posters of her favorite bands. I always reminisce back, thinking that Jimi Hendrix was watching as I got my dick sucked for the very first time.
Alone in her room Jane danced and stripped in a somewhat stoned stupor. The flower child didn't wear any under garments, just her bell bottoms and a tight leather vest with fringed cuffs that were laced to her wrists.
The swaying movements of her hips had me in a trance. Jane was a natural girl, with hair everywhere the eye could see. Her legs, her armpits and most important to me, her pussy. The large bush looked like an out of place afro. But even with slightly sagging breasts, wide, well used hips and hair everywhere, at that very moment, she was the most beautiful creature in the world.
I vaguely remember her stripping off my clothes, but I will never forget Jane wrapping her lips around my shaft. Her soft lips and wet mouth caressed my shaft with the expertise of someone who was not doing this for the first time.
Two hands held the cheeks of my ass as she swallowed me down her throat. I held on to her bobbing head and didn't know what to do when I was about to cum. I wanted to say something. I wanted to warn her, but she must have known or felt it happening. She mumbled something unintelligible and made a meal out of my semen.
Flopping back onto the mattress, she reached into an old wooden cigar box and pulled out a small bag of weed and rolled herself a joint.
"You can finger me if you want." I remember those words to this very day, because it was my first sexual invitation of the kind. I also remember the smell of burning marijuana filling the room, and me leaning in closer for a better look. Jane knew that I was a virgin, so she spread her legs giving me full access.
Using my left hand, I pulled back the hair and moved the fingers of my right hand closer. It was a weird sensation as my finger sank into the wet skin in front of me. Jane offered to share her joint with me, but I politely declined. I'd much rather play with her snatch than get high.
Moving my digit in and out, I placed another at her entrance and eased it in along side the first. A strong musky odor started to fill my nostrils. Jane's pussy was getting wetter by the second and I was once again rock hard.
Thrusting her tongue into my mouth, Jane pushed me back onto her dirty mattress and sheets and mounted my cock. Unceremoniously my virginity was no more.
It was the time of "Free Love" for Jane. Although that era was coming to an end, she grasped onto it with every fiber of her being. She rode me while trying to pleasure herself at the same time. Her words begged for me to cum.
When that time finally arrived, I felt light-headed. The world spun, my life flashed before my eyes and with a last and final thrust I filled Jane's well used pussy with my load.
The rest of the summer was much the same. Jane jumped from bed to bed, but she always found time to please me. Occasionally she would invite another of her hippy chicks into her bed to join us. That became a personal favorite of mine.
Being in the music circle that I was, I met people, and through a friend of a friend, I was introduced, to someone in need of some lifting muscle. With a solid frame and a willingness to work, I got the stagehand job, and in September of 1974, I became part of Bruce Springsteen's tour which started in Philadelphia.
Working on the tour was a dream. We played lots of large and small shows that covered every inch of the U.S. It was prime time for Bruce, he was playing and writing every waking minute. The groupies lined the halls waiting for a chance to meet The Boss. When they didn't measure up, many found solace with the stagehands. From these girls I learned much.
In November 1975, Bruce finished a leg of the tour in London England. Europe was nothing like Arizona. The culture and history begged me to stay.
Bruce left Europe the next day, I didn't.
April was a new leg in my journey, The Rolling Stones 1976 Tour of Europe was about to begin, and I jumped on board.
Working with the Stones was significantly different than the Boss. To put it bluntly, The Stones partied hard. Europe flashed by and from April until June, it was one city and one girl after another. I will always remember standing backstage watching the band work their magic. From 1969 to 1973 they had put out five of the best rock albums of all time, and to hear them play those tracks nightly sent shivers down my spine.
Other than the partying, the biggest difference between Bruce and The Stones was the fans. Bruce was American blue collar at it's finest, and on many nights the crowd looked the part. They could have easily just arrived at the show from work at any manufacturing plant in the world. The Stones were polar opposites. Their crowd, on most nights, contained some sort of European royalty. The parties sometimes lasted for days, or until we had to move to the next cities. Often, some of the lucky, would join the entourage of followers and hangers on, and move with us. To this day I am more than a little surprised that I didn't contract an STD.
I found myself sitting in a small café in Vienna the night after the last show, it was there and then that I put my life as a roadie behind me. Like Mick always says, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need."
The next twenty years of my life would be the envy of some people, but for me they seemed to fly by in a blurry flash of light. I stayed at villas belonging to the rich and famous. I had sex with countless women. Some famous, some infamous. Some I paid for, but most fell into my lap. I travelled until my money ran out. I saw all the Seven Wonders of the world. I climbed pyramids and Mayan ruins. I camped under the stars of Aurora Borealis. I ran with the bulls in Pamplona, and the list continues and continues.
When it came time to finally find a job, there wouldn't be the regular 9 to 5 for me. I worked on fishing trawlers on the Outer Banks. I was a Morochuco, a gaucho or Peruvian cowboy. How ever you look at it I was on horseback all day and stunk of manure. I lived on the beach in Byron's Bay, giving surfing and diving lessons to earn some cash. I was even a Gondolier in Venice for a short time. I loved that job, but my singing voice was for shit.
