“been thinkin - you got to mellow slow,
takes time - you pick a place to go,
and just keep truckin on”
The Grateful Dead
Chapter 1: Crossing the Rubicon
My Army career was drawing to a close, and the days were slowly crawling by.
That long journey that began almost three years ago in the New Haven Armed
Services Entrance and Examination Station was coming to an end. The year was
1971.
Three of us had lived together in a second floor apartment off-post for more
than a year. We served in the same unit, the 14th Military Intelligence
Battalion, attached to the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg in North
Carolina. Dave was from Phoenix, and Gerry from Chicago; together with my
home in Connecticut, we represented the breadth of the USA. Along with being
roommates, we had a lot in common: we were all young, we were the same rank
(Specialist-5 E-5), and we were all Vietnam veterans.
It was Dave who first made the suggestion one Sunday afternoon in August
after reading a pamphlet that listed various schools around the country. The
Army had a program that would let you out 3 months early if you went on to
school. Dave read us the description of the Don Martin School of Radio and
Television Arts and Sciences that was located in Hollywood, California. They
had a three-month course starting in the beginning of November that led to
an FCC First Class Operators License, and the November start date was in the
date range that we all could benefit from.
“Why don’t we go out west together,” he asked. “We could get out early
and do this school for awhile in California while we decide what to do, kind
of get our feet back on the ground. It would be a lot of fun and it is
cheaper for three people to share living expenses. And it’s not far from
Phoenix where I have family and friends if we need to get away.”
Gerry and I laughed at this suggestion. Go to a television school in
Hollywood? It seemed like a ludicrous idea, and so far away, here in the
South by the sprawling Army base. It might has well have been on the moon.
However, in the span of a week it went from ludicrous to real. We had to do
something, we all new that. We had become fast friends during our time
together, we had had our spats but we had never crossed a line that led to
personal animosity. The world was a big place, and although we knew that the
Army life was not for us, the idea of cutting the cord completely now seemed
tinged with an aura of trepidation. College, career, job, back to the
hometown? And do what? These were daunting issues. We knew that the three of
us had major life changing decisions to make, such as whether to go on to
school or take some other civilian direction, as well as where to live.
The more we thought about it, the more we liked the idea of heading to
Hollywood. We could decompress together, let the weight of the Army years
and the war experiences fall by the wayside in the supportive company of
each other. We knew we had a transition to make, and the more we thought
about it, the more sense it made to head out West. We could get out of the
Army a little earlier, make our way out to California, get a place together,
do this three-month TV school, and then decide what we wanted to pursue
next. We did not have a lot of money, but with the GI Bill school payments,
the three of us should be able to pool our resources and get by.
Personally, my excitement over the prospect of actually taking on this
adventure began to grow. I thought of the movie, ‘Easy Rider’, and the
scenes of the two motorcycles cruising through the dramatic landscape of the
West; the idea of taking my own bike across country and through the West was
growing in importance. It began to take over my waking thoughts. I knew it
was something I wanted to do. There would not be another opportunity like
this anytime soon, to make such a trip with the support of a couple of
friends who could carry my personal stuff in their cars. And my bike was in
great running condition, in the fifteen months I had been riding I had
learned to appreciate the mechanical dependability and quality of all things
behind the Honda name.
I
had a 1970 Honda 450cc, candy apple red, and it was a great machine. It was
a scrambler model, which meant that the exhaust pipes were upswept on the
left side and not at the bottom of the frame. It was a deceptively
substantial machine; it weighed over 400 pounds and had over 40 horsepower
along with a five-speed transmission. I had the dealer service it at the
recommended mileage in the owners manual, and other than that, I changed the
oil myself every 1000 miles. I had a small front-end extension installed on
it, and a small pair of “Z” type handlebars. I had a stars and stripes
helmet like Peter Fonda wore in ‘Easy Rider’. The soldiers at the fort liked
and appreciated this helmet, but it had more of a negative vibe in the rural
South. I was ready for a change.
In September, we filled out the applications for the school in Hollywood; in
short order we were accepted and registered. With the required registration
and payment receipt as documentation, we were approved in late September for
early release from the Army to attend school. The magic day was to be
October 8, 1971. Like Caesar crossing the Rubicon, the dice were now cast.
We had made our decision and we would head out west together.
We began to prepare in earnest. We sold off a lot of old stereo equipment
and the like, and shipped some personal stuff to the parents. Everyone took
care of getting their wheels in order. Dave had a 1961 VW bug, small and
underpowered, but cheap to run. Gerry had a new VW bug, more power and much
larger. They both got tune-ups and oil changes. I had 10,000 miles on the
Honda, so I got a tune-up and an oil change as well. I put a new oversize
tire on the rear, and a new standard equipment tire on the front.
We talked to our wonderful old landlord, the “Colonel”, a retired Army
gentleman. We brought three guys from our unit to meet him, they wanted to
take the apartment over when we left. He approved of them and the deal was
done with a handshake. This is how we got in that apartment a year and a
half earlier, that apartment was never vacant and never put up for rent, but
passed on down the line as troops came and went. We took care of the rest of
the loose ends in the coming days. The long and eagerly anticipated end was
getting closer.