04.28.06

“Truckin’, got my chips cashed in…” Grateful Dead

Posted in Uncategorized, life's stories at 10:32 pm by Deb

I consider myself very lucky to have made it through those early years alive and relatively intact. Many of our friends either died or got locked up in some kind of facility. One friend escaped from a Halfway House to hide out with us only to be locked up in a Mental Institution months later. He is another story, but I’m feeling anxious to get on the road. There are actually many stories to be told from that year, but most are drug related and I don’t want people to think it was all one big happy party. It was always hard, sometimes dangerous, and often ugly. It got so ugly that we decided the only way out was to go on the road. New Year’s Eve of 1974 we threw a big party in our empty apartment and, without sleeping, left the next morning for parts unknown. We not only left the apartment, but left it full of people crashed all over the floor. Some friends drove us from Connecticut to just outside of New York City, about an hour away. I hope you’re thinking, “They must’ve been crazy to try hitchhiking from the Northeast across I-80 in the middle of winter.” For those of you reading this who are not from the US, it is verrrrrry COLD that time of year. We had full packs, though no tent. We were counting on being able to stay with people along the way and had been given gifts that came in very handy later on. We also didn’t have a whole lot of money, but had faith that we would figure it all out as we went along. X had been on the road ever since he ran away from home at 14 years old. He knew all the tricks like sleeping in the clothing donation boxes to stay warm and dry. Our first ride was a couple of young men who were traveling aimlessly with the goal of making it to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I have still never made it to Louisiana, one of only 5 states I haven’t yet visited. We were invited to come along but decided at some point to stop off in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania to visit X’s family. We got dropped off in the late afternoon, managed to call one of his sisters who didn’t want us to stay with her but was willing to  squeeze us in for a short visit the next day, couldn’t find the other sister, but finally found a friend of his who said we could stay if we split very early in the morning so her husband didn’t get upset. By now it was late at night; our packs were feeling very heavy; we were cold and hungry, and it started snowing gray snow as we trudged our way to her apartment. (Pittsburg is the only place where I’ve experienced that phenomena.  They have done a lot more to clean up the pollution since then.)  I didn’t think I could walk another step when X stopped at a set of very steep stairs that went up the side of a small mountain. They had to be 7 or 8 flights, and to me it looked like Mount Everest. “She lives just a little beyond the top of those stairs,” he said. I collapsed on the bottom step and cried…

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