In past episodes of Country’s story, we found he had a Christian Grandmother that spent a lot of time with her grandchildren and continuously prayed for their protection. She prayed that they would eventually find their way safely, into God’s fold.
Let me just laugh a big laugh and throw in a big guffaugh right here and now. Country was raised under one of those ‘Grannies umbrella of protection’ deals and thought he was successful in running away from it. However, these episodes are building up to SO MANY brushes with death and other trouble that could have ended his trip through this earth; you’ll wonder why God just didn’t give up on him.
Listen to me right now – – if you have one of those praying Moms or Grannies tugging on the robes of God, why waste your time running? It’s futile – (snigger).
Just wait for the next episode as this long haired biker with PTSD gets into a serious altercation. I think we’re going to see Grannies prayers operating throughout Country’s life.
Need to catch up on past episodes? Click Here
Contrary to popular belief, the peace sign was not a hippie invention. In 1958 (at the same time I was joining the US Navy) a crowd of liberal peace marchers between 60,000 and 100,000 in Britain invented the sign and used it in their ban the bomb march.
The hippies adopted it later. But first at the time I arrived, there were no hippies. That is, they were there, but weren’t called hippies until around 1965. It seems some reporter working for the San Francisco “EXAMINER” called them Hippies and it stuck. But at the time I was first there they were called ‘the beat generation’ or ‘Beatniks’ by some and ‘Bohemians’ by others.
When Sweet Darlin’ and I rode up I found out later that Charles Manson lived a couple of blocks away (never met him but met people who did) and Janis Joplin lived a couple of blocks in the other direction unknowingly awaiting her super stardom just around the corner.
Sweet Darlin and I had to go slow because young people stoned on acid (which was legal at the time) and pot etc. were milling around. They wore every kind of cloths; mostly bright colors and leather headbands, bright colored beads, top hats and such. Everyone seemed happy and festive.
However, as I said before you could feel a current in the air; a sense of something about to happen, a feeling on unity among optimistic youngsters that were happy to throw off the bonds of the oppressive past lifestyle that held people down and thumb their noses at the establishment who were the same as now; panicking at anything they can’t control.
As their numbers grew and spread across the USA to New York, one could feel the tension growing like a steel spring until it was galvanized into a single focus by an event that shocked the world. Jack Kennedy was assassinated!
You see the hippies or bohemians were well ahead of the game. They knew what a farce our government had became long before the rest of the folks that were making fun of them until they had their faces rubbed in it in November 1963 at Dallas, Texas.
The Vietnam War was their outlet. All through the 60’s it was like a steamroller picking up speed; ‘90 miles an hour down a dead end street comes to mind’. But as I said, the time that Sweet Darlin and I rode in was the best time. It was all love and peace without the craziness later.
I had no trouble finding a place to stay. Hell, the first gal I talked to astraddle my bike took me home. Just like that. After that, I came and went anywhere I wanted, in and out of houses of people I didn’t know. I ate what was ever available and smoked pot for the first time.
Crap, it was nice, I won’t lie. The only problem was; I wasn’t exactly beatnik (hippie) material and I kept jumping fences.
Don’t miss any Dallas Motorcycle Examiner articles – just click the SUBSCRIBE button above or below this article – it’s free and they won’t ask your mother’s maiden name. Each article will be delivered directly to your email inbox as they’re published.