Part 3 of the crazy cross country adventure over 40 years ago.

I rolled out of Florida with an ice chest full of Cuban sandwiches, a Shell gas card with just enough left on it to get to LA if the wind was at my back, and $8. My VW bug had been beat pretty bad on this trip, but was running fine until I ran out of luck just outside of Houston. Some horrible sound was coming from the engine and I pulled over. I can't recall exactly what the issue was, but I believe it was the generator and fan housing flying apart. I did get it towed to a garage owned by two Hispanic brothers. There was a huge Virgen painted on the outside and I took that as a good sign. She has popped in and out of my life for years.

They estimated the repair at about $100 and change if I recall, which was $92 more than I had, plus I was starving and saving that for food. This was before the days of gas station stores pretty much. Gas was all you could get on a gas company credit card. I went in with as much swagger and confidence as I could muster and said let's fix this! They did not require proof of funds from me, thank God. I suppose they figured they could keep the car if I didn't pay. I already had a far fetched plan in the back of my mind.

They told me they could have it done by closing at 5 PM. I told them I was beat and would get a room at the motel a short walk down the road and pick it up in the morning. I gave them the keys, keeping the spare for myself. Of course I obviously wasn't going to a motel and just hiked around to the ravine behind the shop. I could actually hear them working on my car from where I was. Sure enough, right before 5 pm they drove the car out of the bay and parked it behind the shop and closed up and left. Luckily there was no fence or impound yard. I just walked up, started the car and drove off, but not before I left a note telling them I was sorry and I would send them a check for the repairs as soon as I got home. I figured even if I got caught on the road I would at least get 3 squares and a jail cot, which sounded pretty inviting right then.

If the situation was bad, the car was good, and I high tailed it out of there trying to get as much distance between me and Houston as possible. I remember vividly crossing into New Mexico at El Paso and realizing I would not have enough gas money to make it to LA and I sure didn't need to run out in the middle of the desert.

Now it gets surreal. I rolled into a rest stop just outside Las Cruces, one I see about everyday and very close to my present home. I am resting there wondering what I am going to do when I meet a young hippie couple hitch hiking. We made a deal if I drove them to Taos I could help them with a gig to paint the interior of some rich guy's ranch house, pick up some money, get some food, clean up and rest. They had gas money to get there and some food to share. This was just too 'Easy Rider' for me to turn down. Plus, lack of options clarifies the mind wonderfully. And this adventure had not even started yet......