storeeze

She came in the rain offering a ride, hair wet  the day I left Vietnam. “Get in, the thirteenth part has run.” We rode on, smoked cigarettes. Someone in back was sleeping. She stopped in the long green grass, clasped my wrist, crowned my lips, and sobbed, "Borgo."

I don’t even think they know where they’re goin’.  What are they tryin’ to prove, anyway? —The Wild Ones (1953) You know how every neighborhood has an eccentric? When I slipped my Harley up Richie’s drive on a wonderfully hot Saturday afternoon, he was sitting on his bed surrounded by clothes and boxes. It was one of those wacky Saturdays where the sight of Richie sleeping in would cause his father Ollie to turn purple and thrust a finger in Richie’s face: “Goddammit Richard, you'll be out of my house by six o’clock tonight, I GAR-UN-TEE!” and dump the contents of Richie’s bedroom into the drive. “Where’s Ollie?” I asked. Richie sighed, “They’re at the Hub.” We got it back into his room—the heat didn’t help—and cracked open a couple of Ollie’s cold ones. We’d been in crises since Alan frosted us with the Angels: I like his sister. Yeah, fourteen. She doesn't look like it. What do you see in these Angels girls? They're still in high school and you're not gettin' anyw...