Mexican Customs
Dec. 1970
I couldn't get Jolynn out of my mind. I missed her. Denny, a
regular at the farm was on his way to California to deliver
a car to his mothers' friend in San Francisco. I jumped at the
chance to go with him. Everything was paid; Denny was even getting
paid to drive the car. To see Jolynn, I would hitchhike to San Diego.
Traveling in a nice car, as might be expected, everything
went smooth; that is, until we picked up two hitchhikers. They were
traveling together, but they weren't together. Rollin was a "head",
a nice guy, and was on his way home to San Diego. He was returning
from visiting friends on the East Coast. Mike, on the other hand,
was a 17-year-old juvenile delinquent. He was a product of the
Philadelphia slums and was on the run from the law for stealing
cars. His destination, as far as I could tell, was the Pacific Ocean.
After we got used to each other, it became kind of fun
traveling together. Denny even decided to drive to San Diego and
drop Rollin and I off before delivering the car to San Francisco.
The problems began when we hit Arizona. We had been smoking dope and
in Flagstaff we stopped to buy wine. Nobody knew Mike had a weak
stomach. He puked all over the backseat of the car. Even after we
pulled over and cleaned it up, the smell wouldn't go away. When we
arrived in San Diego, we dropped Mike and Rollin off and then went
to the address I had for Jolynn. Denny, in order to give the car
time to air out, planned on hanging out for a day before delivering
it to the lady.
I was a little apprehensive knocking on Jolynn's door, but
when she opened it and her face lit up, I knew everything was going
to be fine. She was as happy to see me as I was to see her, and,
after I told her the story, she was okay with Denny spending the
night too. At first it was awkward. Pat, Jolynn's sister, took the
bedroom. Jo and I slept on the living room couch that converted into
a bed, and Denny slept on the floor. Because Denny's charm flowed
fast and furious, he was able to extend his stay into an extra day,
but when he failed to show enough appreciation for a dinner Pat
cooked, he could not save himself. Except for the fact that Denny's
presence made it impossible for Jolynn and I to get any bonding
done, it was still good for me because he kept Jo's sister occupied.
Pat, a real bitch, put up with Denny because he fed her ego, but he
was no longer welcome when he did not finish his dinner. Pat was a
good cook, but any food would taste good if Stalin served it.
Denny made the best of the two days he spent in San Diego. The three
of us spent a day at Disneyland and another day trying to get into
Tijuana. Everybody enjoyed Disneyland, well maybe not everybody;
Jolynn had been there a couple times before. At Tijuana, Mexican
customs wouldn't let us across the border. Apparently, they were
having problems with hippies and drugs, so they passed an ordinance
prohibiting longhairs from entering Tijuana. I guess they thought my
hair was too long. After they turned our car around at the border,
we headed back to San Diego. Nobody was happy about that.
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