The same week as Woodstock, I went into the army as a non-combatant conscientious objector and eventually was discharged honorably as a full conscientious objector. When released I worked in the Anti-Vietnam War Peace Movement, principally working with active-duty soldiers and Vietnam Veterans Against the War. When the war finally ended, several friends and myself got a job working in a small Boston factory. Our sole intent was to organize a union. We did! But I got fired in the process and ended up on unemployment.
While on unemployment I met a beautiful off-beat female artist from New York City who had a whole floor loft in The Puffer Building on Cambridge Street, Beacon Hill, Boston. We decided to throw a party, she with her artistic connections, me with my peace movement connections. I landed the performing musicians. The party was dynamite, one of the best in all history -- certainly one for the Beacon Hill record books (but nobody's count this shit--lol!). Anyway, afterwards, I kept some of the musicians together and ended up forming a glitter-punk rock n' roll band (one of the first of the punk genre).
Thus, was born a band named Harlow, with me as the founder/manager. I didn't know how to play music back then but I was a pretty good organizer. I eventually taught myself in my 30's how to play guitar, but that's a whole 'nother story.
So one night Harlow had a gig at a dive bar in Ashland, Massachusetts called Mickey's. At the time I was living on Beacon Hill, sharing a pad with my lead guitarist. This was back when Beacon Hill was affordable. A friend had given me a 1956 pink Cadillac. It was unregistered and uninsured but Daniel's license plate was still on the car.
At the very last moment, when time was of the essence, the band's ride to the gig fell through. Our equipment was already at the club since we had performed the night before. The only way I could get the band to the club -- remember, I'm the manager--lol! -- was to take the caddy -- the show must go on! We made it! Many of our friends finally arrived at the club and we had a pretty good gig.
After we finished performing the owner wasn't present and I therefore had to wait for the band to get paid. I told the band to drive home with our friends, I'd meet everyone on Beacon Hill. Besides, at 2 am, I figured It'd be better for me to drive home alone, given the illegal status of the Cadillac. Certainly having a bunch of long-haired, strangely-dressed New York Doll-type musicians riding with me would make a perfect target for us to get stopped by the cops. So they all left and I stayed behind to get the booty from the gig.
Paid in full, I'm now driving down the Mass Pike with a big wad of cash and feeling pretty good. The weather was perfect, it was a beautiful night, the band played very well and we all had fun. Life was sweet!
So I'm driving along full of nice thoughts. Suddenly a car zooms directly next to me and drives parallel. I look to see two very beautiful, obviously wild and smiling women staring at me. For nearly a mile they stayed alongside my car constantly watching me. I had shoulder-length hair with five bright colors tinted into it -- thanks to my lady hairdresser friends--lol! After all, I was the manager of a glitter-punk band. And, don't forget, I'm driving a pink 1956 Cadallic so I'm thinking I had to have been of interest to these girls.
Finally, the one on the passenger side sticks her body out the window, flashes her boobs bare and screams, "You wanna fuck?" I'm thinking game on. Maintaining control of my car, which had a very large steering wheel, I began nodding my head up and down in an obvious "yes" motion and screamed back, "Sure, let's go!"
The woman driving then hit the gas pedal hard and took off ... with me right behind them. Sure enough, the next exit comes up, their blinker goes on, they take the exit, me right behind them. My brain is full of: Wow, this is really gonna happen!
Coming out of the exit we take a right. They're now zooming along at about 45-50 in a 25 mph zone, me and my Caddy tugging at their rear.
But, as always, the fickled finger of fate interferes. Sure enough, we drive past a cop hidden in a store lot. He sees the two cars whiz by, pulls out and the blue lights are on. I get pulled only to see my new found dream-fav fantasy drive out of sight. Beyond that, there's an additional snag. My New Hampshire driver's licensed had expired.
So two police officers approach from both sides. I could see the obvious smirk on the face of the one approaching my side when he observed how I was dressed and the colors in my hair. The other officer was walking around admiring my Cadillac.
Before he could ask anything I looked at him, smiled and said, "Officer, I can explain this. You saw that the car I was following? There are two very pretty girls inside. While driving down the Pike they pulled next to me and asked if I wanted to fuck So I ..." Right in the middle of trying to say that's why I was following them, the officer cut me off and said, "That's all right." He and his partner instantly turned around and jumped back into their cruiser to chase after the girls.
Poetic justice maybe? Karma works in funny ways.