Return To Forever (8 page)

Larry decided to re-up for another four years and was moving with his squadron from ‘Nam to Pearl Harbor and back. He was also becoming thoroughly immersed in growing and harvesting the finest “Mary Jane” this side of the Pacific. R&R in Thailand put him in contact with real experts in the field and he was soon a certified distributor of very excellent weed. His bankroll and roster of friends was growing quickly.

Phil’s troubles with higher learning were continuing. His grades at Michigan were sub-standard and probation led to dismissal. This was so out of character that no one could believe this downhill transition from the Phil who was a scholastic leader in high school. Back at home, hardly a word was exchanged with his father. Phil, however, was not a quitter and was determined to work his way back and get his degree. He enrolled in the community college and, with a modest class schedule, was able to sustain a 3.0 GPA which eventually led to his acceptance by Michigan Tech University. He would major in Criminal Justice.

For Joe, being home was like staring into a tunnel and seeing nothing at the end of it. He didn’t want to return to Food Giant and had the GI Bill at the ready to pay for a return visit to college. One night in a local bar, Joe bumped in to Bill Hogan, one of Phil’s friends who had served in the Army in Germany before Viet Nam. They became drinking buddies immediately and would cruise the bars in Bill’s Camaro looking for girls or fights, it really didn’t matter which came first.

Bill was a carpet installer and he alerted Joe to an opening as a dispatcher if he was interested. Joe interviewed for the job and was hired immediately by the Jewish owner who had been through the Holocaust and had a soft spot for vets. The office was a long way from Joe’s house and if the weather was bad or Joe was suffering from a hangover, the morning drive would be an adventure. Joe was driving a 1964 Galaxy 500 convertible with a tendency for the locks to freeze and many a winter morning he would have to drive holding the door with his hand to keep it from flinging open. He sure missed the Corvette.

While in the military, Joe continued to work on his guitar playing. He acquired an Ovation acoustic and practiced as much as he could. By the time of his discharge he was, in his opinion, a pretty damn good lead guitarist and also doubled as a bass player. He joined the Musician’s Union and floated as a fill-in on gigs around the city. He would still jam with Johnny but had clearly passed him on the skill meter.

On union gigs Joe had the opportunity to meet and play with a diverse group of musicians. From funk to rock, his chops expanded and no song, regardless of genre, was over his head. On one gig he met a bass player named Clark Douglas. Clark came from a very wealthy family and earned pocket money working in one of the family fur shops. His sister was a gorgeous blonde and a classically trained pianist. When Joe was in Clark’s family home he would sit spellbound watching her play the Steinway. She was the classic ice princess and gave Joe as much attention as she would a piece of furniture. Still, he would have given a year’s pay to get in her pants.

At home Joe was getting cabin fever. He had become addicted to the TV series “Then Came Bronson” about a loner riding his Harley across the country searching for adventures. Watching the opening sequence of Bronson riding across the Golden Gate Bridge in the early morning mist looked pretty damn glamorous to Joe. He decided then and there to get a bike. When he shared his plan with his dad the battle line was drawn. “If you can afford a motorcycle then you can afford to live on your own. The day you get a bike is the day you move out.” His dad’s words left no wiggle room so Joe would make the necessary arrangements when that day arrived.

CHAPTER 15

W
hen Joe lay in his bed at night he would often think about Mary and how she hurt him more than any VC bullet could have. Did she go through with the marriage? Who was the guy? Did she graduate? Where was she living? As much as he tried to put her out of his thoughts, some little thing would trigger a memory and put him in a dark place.

One day upon returning home from work his mother handed him a box wrapped in brown paper, probably taken from used grocery bags. The box was addressed to Joe. There was no return address written anywhere on the box. He put it on the kitchen table, opened a beer, and sat down staring at this mystery package. “Open it, Joe”, his mother urged. Something told Joe he should be alone when he opened it and he picked it up and took it to his room.

After tearing off the brown paper, he saw that it was a woman’s shoe box. As he slowly lifted the lid, he saw a large graduation picture…of himself…staring back at him. Reading what was written on the back confirmed it was the picture he had given Mary. Under the picture was every gift he had ever given to her…the blue star sapphire ring, the diamond heart pendant and other important mementos of his love for her. That was it. No note…nothing. A final knife in his heart.

When his mother entered his room she found him sobbing quietly, the box and its contents strewn across his bed. She was beside herself with hatred after figuring out who sent the box. How could someone be so cruel and thoughtless? Her son had been through so much. He didn’t need this heartache to continue.

Joe didn’t have much to say to anyone for the next few days. He gave the box and its contents to his mother and told her to do whatever she wanted with it. Joe tried to bury the pain in his music. Each night he would go to the basement, plug in his Gibson 335 and play. He had a small transistor radio and would tune in to an underground FM station and play to whatever song came out.

For weeks Clark had been pestering Joe about forming a band together. Maybe now was the right time. Clark’s family home was on ten acres situated on the top of a small hill. Along the back of the property were two small apartments, originally built for the live-in help they used to employ. One of the apartments would be a great practice studio and making deafening noise wouldn’t disturb a soul. Joe knew a great young drummer who could be recruited quickly. He told Clark that if he could convince his sister to play keyboards he would front the band. When Clark approached the ice princess she said she would sit in on their first practice but would not commit. That was good enough for Joe.

—

In April Joe had enough money saved to purchase his motorcycle. After much research and shopping he decided on a Triumph Bonneville 650. It was a British bike, a sister to Norton and BSA but with better lines. A couple of weeks before, he talked to Clark after practice about the possibility of moving in to one of the apartments. He explained the ultimatum his dad had given him and was willing to pay a reasonable rent and share of the utilities.

Clark warmed to the idea immediately and even suggested they become roommates and share the unit which had two bedrooms. They were using the large living room as the practice area. There was no garage but there was a huge barn to store the tractor that was needed to control the grass in the summer and plow the long drive way in winter. Joe could keep his bike in there where it would be protected from the elements.

And so the stage was set for Joe’s final confrontation with his father who secretly always wanted a motorcycle but was too proud to share in his son’s experience…hard ass til the end. The night before he was to pick up his bike, Joe rented a van and loaded his clothes and other possessions and moved out. His mother was heartbroken and his dad just ignored the event with his usual indifference.

It was late when he finally returned the van and he and his new roommate cracked a six-pack and jammed til the wee hours. Joe was beginning to understand why Clark never wanted to sing. He was tone deaf. He relied heavily on sheet music to learn a song but he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.

Bright and early the following morning Clark drove Joe to the Triumph dealer to pick up his prize. The burgundy and silver Bonneville was ready to go. After signing the paperwork, the salesman led Joe to the bike to show him the controls and features. He asked Joe if he had ever ridden a motorcycle before and when Joe said no, he suggested Joe practice in the large open field adjacent to the dealership before he jumped on the highway to head home.

In the field, Joe just couldn’t get the hang of shifting without stalling out. Over and over he tried and failed. He finally reached his frustration limit and was ready to walk back to the salesman and ask for his money back. One last try, he thought, gently releasing the clutch and, miracle of miracles, it didn’t stall and he was able to shift through the gears and on to the highway…scared shitless. Like a kid on a bicycle for the first time, Joe had a sense of freedom and exhilaration he hadn’t felt for many years. The ride home cleared his head of Mary…for a while.

Another benefit to living with Clark on his family’s estate was being able to fire a weapon safely without prompting complaints to the police. Joe still had his issued .45 from ‘Nam which he was able to smuggle out with help from some friends. Clark had a Ruger Blackhawk .22 and they would spend a Sunday afternoon plinking at cans and bottles. It didn’t take long for Joe to feel the pinch of shooting the expensive .45 round and he decided to purchase a Ruger like Clark’s. It also didn’t take long for Clark to discover his roommate’s proficiency with a weapon and he started inviting a few friends from law enforcement to join them. One of these friends brought an AR-15 from his patrol car and Joe put on a show with it.

For the next few months Joe’s non-working hours were divided between developing his band and riding his Triumph. He was also getting bored with his job and began looking for something else to do. While the music was getting better, the band was still in need of more practice to justify a club’s paying them to gig on a weekly basis. True to her word, Clark’s sister did sit in with them a few times but became bored quickly and bowed out. “God, she’s beautiful,” Joe thought but that was a fantasy he would soon get over as she became engaged and moved in with her boyfriend.

By the end of summer Joe quit his job with the carpet installation company. He had a little money in the bank and decided to try his hand on a “Then Came Bronson” road trip across the state. He had made some upgrades to the Bonneville which now resembled a chopper more than a British road bike and he was eager to show it off on the open road.

On a crisp Saturday morning, Joe packed a few things in a back-pack, tied his sleeping bag to his sissy bar and, almost as an afterthought, he put on a shoulder-holster with his loaded .45 cocked and locked. He did not have a concealed carry permit but decided he would feel more secure on the open road with Mr. Colt’s protection at hand. His plan was to sleep under the stars, weather permitting, but he had enough cash to pay for a cheap motel room if necessary.

He decided his first stop would be Caseville, on Lake Huron. It was a straight shot north and would take about three hours unless he detoured to some place interesting. It was sunny but a stiff wind was blowing south the entire way, turning Joe’s face beet red with wind burn and adding some time to his ETA. He rolled in to town late afternoon, hungry and exhausted from the beating the wind had taken on him.

He road down Main Street of the deserted town which was not yet ready for the influx of summer vacationers that would fill the streets and every available hotel room. Only a couple of restaurants were open and he chose the Riverside Roadhouse. The place was virtually empty and a voice from the kitchen shouted for him to pick any seat he wanted. He chose a table with a view of the lake and scanned the menu as the pert young waitress asked what he wanted.

Joe was immediately taken with her beauty, hidden behind a dirty apron and skin tight jeans. She had dishwater blonde pigtails that made it difficult for Joe to guess her age. “How about a bacon cheeseburger and a Stroh’s,” he said as she placed a glass of water in front of him.

“How do you want that cooked?” she asked, never looking up from her order pad.

“Medium well.” he answered and she walked away before he could start any small talk. When she returned with his beer she looked different. She was now wearing a clean white apron and he could see a trace of make-up that was missing earlier. He still couldn’t guess her age but something seemed to click between them in spite of her silence.

“So how’s the night life in this town?” Joe asked, hoping to break the ice.

“Not much going on this time of year.” she replied. “Most of the young people head to the skating rink for something to do. They have a bar there and play pretty good music over the PA. Is that your bike out front?”

“It is,” Joe answered with a smile which she returned. “Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle?”

“Nope…never have.” she said, then walked to the kitchen to get his burger. Joe studied her tight little ass as she walked away. He decided then and there that it was time to bring some sex back into his boring life and she would fill the bill nicely.

When the waitress returned with his meal she also brought him another beer. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said but her eyes spoke volumes more.

“What I need is to know your name and what time you get off work,” Joe replied, playing all his cards with one hand.

“My name is Jessica but everyone calls me Jessie,” she answered and pulled up a chair at his table. He was the only patron so she had nothing but time to kill. “Are you planning on staying the night? If you are there’s only one motel open right now and it’s right next store…The Rainbow Motel.”

Joe took a bite of his burger before answering. “Haven’t decided. I guess it will depend on you Jessie.” She turned beet red, clearly embarrassed by his aggressiveness but also flattered.