HITCHHIKIN’ BLUES AND THE USMC
Introduction
Chicanery comes in many forms. The worst form of it in my humble opinion is “The Omission of the Truth!
Someone tells you something or offers you a “deal” and neglects to include pertinent information that would form your opinion.
Perhaps they don’t want to hurt Your feelings, perhaps the Car Dealer doesn’t want you to know All The Cars History or Defects, thus blowing the deal. Perhaps your a Private Person and a brief summary of happenings or events are all you want to share.
But whatever. When omission of the truth is used for avarice or selfish reasons. Well, you know somebody is going to get screwed.
As the old adage goes “If something is too good to be true, then it probably is.” In other words, when someone ain’t telling you the whole story – prepare to bend over – ’cause you’re bound to get the shaft in the outcome.
The Wool is Pulled over Eyes, you Sign on the Dotted Line, You take a Vow, You Believe Someone’s Tale of Fiction, and then it’s days, months, years or a lifetime of suffering.
And that is why Omission of the Truth is at the top of my list.
Oh, I know there will be dissenters out there who will disagree, believing that outright lying should be on top of the heap. However, outright lying, in my opinion, is a crude tool and usually falls apart upon scrutiny and passage of time.
Case in point is the little tale I am going to relate to you. Bear in mind that if I had received All The Facts, I might have made a different decision and perhaps altering my life’s trajectory into the United States Marine Corps in the year of Our Lord 1977.
The Story as I remember it…
I was hitchhiking back in the 1970s to see a gal I had been dating who lived in a small town called Cramden in Massachusetts.
Since I was living on The Cape for the Summer and had no car, it usually took a few rides from Onset on the Cape to Cramden, the total time about 2 hours hitchin’ rides and walking. Sometimes it would take me longer.
Back then hitchhiking was pretty safe and you could do it without anyone getting “Weird on Ya.”
Once having arrived, Liana, my girlfriend, would hang out, go to a movie, get something to eat, do date kind of stuff. If she was at her parents I’d sleep on the sofa, if I was visiting her at Burlyton All-Girls College, also located in Cramden I’d get to crash in her dorm room.
Liana would usually give me a lift back to the Cape, that is unless we were fighting, then Charlie (Me! Your Narrator) would have to schlep his angry self back home to the Cape alone, pissed.
Since we fought constantly I did a lot of walkin’ and Hitchin.’
While I walked, I carried a little transistor radio with me for entertainment. I remember one time David Soul warbling “Don’t Give Up on Us Baby!” over the little metal speaker on my little radio, this had been after a terrific row and I had momentarily stopped to see if any cars we’re coming.
Nope. Not a car in sight.
So I cursed “That Bitch, ” and continued walking, my sore feet matching my foul mood.
“David Soul Sucks! What a dumb ass song!” I muttered as I plodded along.
So all Summer long and for miles and miles – it was Walk, Walk, Hitch, Hitch, “That Bitch! ” Walk, Walk Hitch, Hitch, “That Goddamn Bitch!”
Not the most optimum way to pass a Vacation.
Summer was already feeling like I had been sold a bill of goods. I felt like I had been suckered to spend a boring time on the Cape just so Schick, my college buddy from Fanning State College, could have someone who could split the rent with him.
Schick had promised me that if I stayed with him on the Cape it would be a never-ending Bitchin’ Summer of Chicks, Clubs, and Parties. So far, there had been no parties, hardly any Chicks, and I got to go to one Club in Hyannis where Guys just wore Lacoste Shirts, glared at each other, and pestered Girls who were sitting together in groups. Snoresville!
The little cottage we shared had no air conditioning so the building felt like a convection oven most of the time. The New England sun beating down on us as the humidity would soar to barely habitable conditions.
To pay “My Share” of the rent I worked at a little Seafood Restaurant just up the road from our cottage on Cranberry Highway. It’s still there today that is if you know where to look for it.
Walking to work, waiting on tables, walking back to the house in the blazing summer heat and humidity just added to my misery.
Then there was the walking and hitchhiking to Liana’s parent’s house. Lots of walking and thinking. When you walk and you have a lot of time on your hands, so you do a lot of thinking, at least I do.
You see I was at a crossroads in my life. I had applied to three separate Colleges, Bates, Boudin, and Vassar, as a transfer student in need of financial aid assistance. All of them turned me down flat.
This left me with two options – I could go back to Fanning College and finish another two years of study or I could pack it all in and fly home to California, and move back in with my Crazy Mom and my annoying younger brother.
California was out. My Mom drove me crazy with her endless dramas with loser boyfriends, and school…Well, I didn’t have a clue on what to major in, a necessary requirement for graduation.
Transferring to a different College would have bought me some time and perhaps put off the inevitable decision of deciding what the hell I wanted to do with my life.
I have always been envious of people who know exactly what they want to do once they graduate. “I am going to be a Doctor” or “I want to be a Lawyer. ” So this person studies medicine or that person studies law, they go to college and Presto! You have a guy or gal transformed into a doctor or lawyer. That kind of momentous decision making just eluded me. I was clueless.
So it was a year of floundering around at Fanning College. Taking classes and not going nowhere.
My grades were decent but they weren’t going to open many doors for me.
And I was bored. Bored with the whole State College system and frustrated that after several years of College (2 years at Chico, and 1 year at Fanning) I was just as confused as I was when I first entered it.
The more I thought about it, my option of going back to school in the Fall was looking more dismal. Pffft! No, I didn’t want to do that. Going back to California and living with my Mom? No way Jose.’
So what the hell was I going to to do once Summer was over?
God, The Universe, Destiny, whatever you want to call Him or “It” has a funny way working things out for us puny mortals. And I always believe that behind all kinds of happenings there is a sense of irony, a joke, a granted wish, that is bestowed upon us, granted with either humorous or tragic results. God has a sense of humor, you want to make him laugh, tell him your plans.
You want the Universe to make up your mind for you – expect a kick in the ass in the right or wrong direction. You’re gonna end up somewhere. Usually, you’ll find yourself at a destination, job, relationship and think “What the Hell just happened, “How’d did I get here?” or as the Talking Heads so aptly put it ” My God, What have I done?!”
So here we are, I am at the crossroads of my life, not knowing what I am going to do in a few months, hitchin’ rides, walking, making my way to visit Liana in Cramden, and doing a lot of thinking.
The stage is set, the players are in position. Ah, here it comes. Enter Destiny…
I had made pretty good time and was over halfway there when a Big Yellow Cool looking Camaro pulls up beside me.
The car window rolls down and a big guy with a close-buzzed hair cut, khaki shirt with a single stripe on the sleeve sticks his head out the window.
“Need a lift?” He asks.
“Yeah, please.” I scramble into his air-conditioned car thankful to get out of the late afternoon sun.
We took off in a car roar of slung road gravel…Fate and I had just collided and Destiny was gonna give me a Ride!
End of Part 1
