If I had a time machine I would take us all back to those best of times. None of the sad times. Like when Glen left for VietNam. He was there only two weeks before he died. I still have the newspaper clipping in my 1967 yearbook. So many of our friends died it's hard to count them all.
No, we had fun that summer. Riding down Piedmont Road full tilt. Taking the cutoff that dropped us down into the field. That was the shortcut to the house on Carnegie Drive in Milpitas. That was Betty's house where my sailor stayed sometimes with his step-brothers.
I remember getting gas at the Rotten Robbie on Piedmont Road, it's still there although the prices are much higher. Two nights after we met Dave and Ron I wanted my mom to meet them too, so she drove Pat and me to find the guys. We were heading for Milpitas but found them gassing up at the Rotten Robbie station there on Piedmont Road. When we pulled up, Little George jumped out of the back of that old 56' Ford wagon of Bruce's, and bounced around acting silly telling me "He's my brother, he's my brother". All I could see was that cute sailor. "That's him" I told mom as I pointed to the dark-haired slender guy, "His name is Dave".
Dave told me about chasing rabbits in the field with Royce and Glen and crusing around San Jose State with the tailgate down on Bruce's wagon looking to start a fight with any college guy willing to take on Royce. And how Little George fell onto the pavement when he leaned too far out as he tried to talk to a pretty co-ed walking by.
And about them driving down Mount Hamilton Road in Joe and Betty's red Falcon. Shaking up cans of Fischer's beer and spraying it on the windshield. Bruce was driving, Little George was next to him and Ron and Dave were spraying the beer. There was 2" of beer on the floor boards. Bruce missed the curve and hit the guard rail because he had beer in his eyes. That freaked Ron out and he thought they were all going to die right then and there. And so did I when Dave took me down Piedmont Road at 105 mph on the back of his 450 Honda.
On our first official date we borrowed Betty's red Falcon. "Mom, we really did have a flat tire". I know she didn't believe us. We drove for miles on that tire and it was shredded by the time we got the car back to Betty's house in Milpitas at 3AM.
The smell of wet green newly mown grass. When we rode the motorcycle on Toyon Ave. past the San Jose Country Club just before dawn. To this day the smell of cut grass takes me back there. I remember we didn't sleep much that summer. Why would we need sleep? We were kids and time seemed too short already.
I remember when Bruce worked at the Shell gas station near Andrew Hill High School. There was some sort of 'instant win' game and we kept going in and getting handfulls of game pieces and ripping them open until we found enough winners to cash them in and gas up Pat's 1967 mustang. And getting burgers at the "Golden Arches".
"Brown-eyed Girl" played continuously on the radio. Somehow we all knew who she was and that she was with us constantly. Everyone of us knew her. Maybe she was real, maybe she was just in our imagination but it didn't matter. That song was our anthem and we loved it and we loved her for being ours that summer.
Those were purely blissful times.
No hassles.
Very sweet indeed.
