LSD, Duct Tape, an Ugly Whore and Rambling

Alec, my first buddy, best friend and someone I grew up with, and I, started working at the age of 13 . Oh,
we were picking up pop bottles much earlier than that, taking them to the stores in Portsmouth to get a
nickel a bottle ( and you got a dime for the bigger bottles in those days) but at the age of thirteen we both
were given small partime jobs from a fella who liked us. This guy managed a couple of drive-in movie
theaters and told we could earn some bucks by sticking the debris/garbage from the lots on Saturdays and
Sundays - that was when we still were in school. We were so damn efficient and eager to make those bucks
that we put our best foot forward. During the summer months when school was out Alec and I would
alternate days during the week (less movie goers on weeknights at the drive-in) and really hump on the
weekends. If we ever decided to want some time off, Darrel (the manager) covered for us in the middle of
the week. Sometimes if there wasn't much trash to be picked up he would call Alec and let him know. I
never really got to know Darrel - Alec knew him better than I did but then again, Darrel was sucking
Alec's dick and paying Alec for that! Oh he wanted to suck mine and offered me the same cash deal (10
bucks a a squirt) but between getting my nut off with the girls and Alec sucking mine off frequently I just
wasn't interested - and I wasn't that ambitious for cash until 1970 when I set my eyes on getting my own
motorcycle - that year I continued to pick up the trash with Alec and I too got my dick sucked for bucks
over in Portsmouth. So when spring of 1971 came after a hard winter, Alec and I went over to Portsmouth,
sold his Impala and bought ourselves our first motorcycles with cash
(he already owned a yellow Impala that had been sold cheap to him by another one of his "johns").

Oh let me tell ya some tales about those joy rides in that Impala too - the first time he let me take the
wheel was when we were partying with Debby (one of my girlfriends) and Rita (very heavy girl who was also
a lot of fun and had a crush on Alec but he was never interested - Rita told him that she wanted to suck
his dick and turn him on to a girl - so she sucked mine now and then hoping he might get turned on - it
never happened between him and Rita but it did with another girl). Anyway we had gotten hold of some
windowpane (that's LSD) and a couple of bottles of MadDog (Morgan David 20/20) that we had lifted from
my stepdad's church. None of us were strangers to acid, wine or beer so we decided to listen to some Pink
Floyd and Moody Blues on the 8 track player in the car. We drove over to Portsmouth and hooked up with
some hippies we knew. I remember clearly how I said the window pane was bogus acid and a hippie gave me
a hit of his blotter acid. Then we went for a ride in the hills - I remember Debbie kept saying "James -
you know what you're doing?" as the Moody Blues were singing, I remember hill jumping with that Impala
and nothing else until we started coming down - the next day! I had somehow managed to convince myself
that the windowpane was bad and that I wasn't tripping and after I took that 2nd hit of acid it all finally
came to fruitation. The others told me later that the windowpane was great and they were so worried about
me because I was really tripping out. At some point we wound back up at the hippie pad (they had gone
with us on that drive), spent the rest of the night there tripping well and the following morning I freaked at
Peyton's sexual advances (one of the hippies). I was told that I also freaked about the black woman in their
pad, someone who somehow managed to be there, no one knew who she was and I freaked when I saw her
jerking off her dick under the dress she was wearing. I was told my comment was "you're one ugly black
whore" and when HE pulled a handgun out from under the pillow, in my trippy coming down state I went
out the door with my three friends behind me, jumped into the Impala and took off. The coming down to
reality was abrupt later that morning - we were hill jumping in the sticks when I heard the siren behind the
car in pursuit. I recall slowing down and driving the car to Rita's house where we pull into the driveway.
The cop car pulled in behind us and the cop jumped out of the car and said "you assholes were probably
doing at least 90 in those hills - you crazy or stupid? Rita- get out of the car!" What I can tell you is that
we did. I can tell you that Rita told the cop we all had been doing acid the night before and some black
man in a dress with a dick started shooting at us. The four of us had to sit the rest of the day out with
that cop, listening to his lectures about the evils of LSD and how we were going to ruin our lives and all
that stuff. When he felt that we were capable of driving ourselves home he let us go. Alec, Debby and I left,
feeling very very lucky! Rita of course stayed behind - he said he would see that she got home safely - he
was a good cop with a good heart - really was! He also had been screwing Rita on the side every now and
then and because of her age probably felt like it was better to deal with it all in this manner. It wasn't until
a few years later, after Alec and I had settled in Santa Cruz, that Alec told me that cop had sucked his dick
a few times. I often would ask him if there was anyone who hadn't sucked his dick other than me and Alec
would always retort back "is there any bitch hole your cock hasn't been in? You always gotta prove
something don't ya!" My reply back always was the same "you're pushing your luck." That would shut him
up quickly. I know he could see that look in my eyes - he knew he had a good thing and he knew I knew
that I had a good thing too - he knew better than to go there with that conversation. He knew deep down
how I felt about him and he knew how troubled I was. Alec also knew the things George (my stepdad) did to
me when I was a child but he knew it was the things George said to everyone about me that I had never
forgotten and pissed me off - a few years after my stepdad stopped molesting me he would tell everyone
that "Jim's a queer - he sucks cock for money". No, I got my dick sucked for money as a teen - George
forced me to suck him when I was little and then later made me appear to be the one who sucked cock.
Comprehende?

I never fucked any other man except for Alec in all those years. I'd go fuck the women, then fuck him - I
slept with him every night after we got to California. Nothing or no one could come between us (there were
those who tried or thought they could). I didn't have to worry about telling the women they had to leave
after screwing - Alec would come into the bedroom saying "we got things to do man and she needs to be
on the road too....." and he said it always in that same "mono" tone with that deep rough voice of his. Most
of the women were girls I'd pick up somewhere and bring home. They had no idea or clue of what was really
going on between us. Of course all our riding buddies knew! There was one pretty girl that use to tell
people in a het Santa Cruz bar that she was going to marry the Dingo one day - after she left there would
be much discussion and laughter.
No one ever told her! We always got a kick from that!

After that incident (back in KY as teenagers) we all still would go out driving the hills and do the drive in
movies - Alec always insisted that I take the wheel (he liked to get tottaly blitzed) and I always did. He told
Debby and Rita that anyone who could handle a car on two hits of acid like I did probably was qualified to
take that wheel. Rita always agreed and Debby was always reluctant to agree and would just nod her head
with apprehension. Would I trust anyone then or now on acid to drive. Fuck NO! Usually it was a couple of
bottles of MadDog or Boonesfarm (Debby like Boonesfarm) and a few bottles of beer, sometimes we'd go to
the strip mines but after that, whenever we did acid or mescaline, Debby would always say to me, "James,
remember we gotta stay on this side of the bridge [KY] - now we're not going flying over the hills, let's
just go driving, OK? Try to be good James, we want to stay alive." We did a few more rides in that Impala
on drugs over the next couple of years. Took a lot of trust between the four of us to allow me to drive that
car the way I did.
There was also something else working here too - a High Power was looking out after us -
even though I had no faith based practice or beliefs at the time,
a Higher Power was still there just the same.

So back to the motorcycles! We had saved so much money and with the sell of the car combined, Alec and
I each bought 1971 Honda 750's - both were black tanks with lots of iron on the bike frame.
Two King Shits at 17 buying bikes and leathers and boots to go with it all.
We had passed through our "lets do some acid phase", I rarely drank anything and when I did I only got
slightly intoxicated, just enough for a buzz. I didn't do any more acid or mescaline until after we went to
California and did some there in the early 70's - and enjoyed doing those long rides from SF to LA on
the Pacific Highway. I stopped doing acid for years (did a hit for the Stones Concert at Candlestick in 80
and the last time I chewed peyote was when Clay and I were driving in 2003 to the Grand Canyon - I was
chewing while cruising the back roads between Deming NM and Phoeniz AZ unknown to Clay of course -
he freaked when I told him after our arrival in Phoeniz). Alec on the other hand enjoyed his boozing and
was able to maintain somewhat of a balance when he drove that bike - and when he got too drunk to stay
up he would pass out on the beaches or somewhere off the roads until he came to his senses. Right ater we
got our GoldWings in 1977, we were partying with buddies outside of Santa Cruz. Alec had a court date
with a judge the next day up in San Francisco. He got some damn drunk the night before (he was worried
that he might have to do some time in the slammer for something else) and into the wee hours of that same
morning with his judge date that he couldn't not keep the bike steady before he started it up. Knowing that
he would certainly go to jail if he didn't show up in court, our buddies devised a plan to get him up there.
It wasn't the first time Alec rode bitch on my Wing (and not the last either) - he only rode bitch when he
was drinking real heavy. He was swaying which is not good. So I sat on my 77 robin's egg blue GoldWing
(it was a fully dressed bike with the Vetters fairing and trunk mounted behind the bitch seat). Alec
mounted himself in the bitch seat and our buddies duct taped him and I together so he wouldn't fall off!
Duct tape and bungee cords have many useful purposes but I had them duct tape his mouth shut too as I
didn't want to hear it all the way up the coast to court. It was bad enough to have to drive and not just
take control of the road but maintain and take control of this body that had been securely ducted taped to
me from behind. They followed along as they usually did anyway cause we all were involved in our meth
hauling business (from LA to SF - we would stay, or party if that's what you want to call it, in Santa Cruz
on the return trip up before finishing the haul to SF - none of us by the way did meth, we just ran it up
to the dealers - you don't use your product - you make a profit and stay away from the use of the
product if you're smart). Upon our arrival in the Bay Area, the product went to Oakland and San
Francisco by some members of our group and two others went with us to Civic Center for Alec's benefit
with his court hearing. Someone obviously would have to cut the duct tape
off us before we got off that bike. Alec appeared in court on time before the judge, smelling like booze but
alert. He could do a month of time in jail or pay a fine and court costs. Cash is better than keeping
someone in jail I suppose for some offenses - it enriches the public coffers.
The judge also said that he saw some bikers when he was coming in from Oakland on the Bay Bridge and
saw an odd sight of two bikers on a bike taped together. He told Alec that he really had some good friends
looking out after him and he should straighten up and make it to court on his own
if he ever had to come back and if he did it better not be in his court.

Alec always seemed to be able to come to his senses somewhat whe he had to (he never was completely
sober and sane - when he had to be alert he could suddenly straighten up just enough to take care of
whatever had to be done) - I always slept with a machete under my pillow and he slept with the gun - when
you are running drugs you have to do that - there was never any lack of trust between us and our
buddies even though he got crazy and would now & then start firing the gun). When someone broke into
our SF flat one night while we were passed out in bed (yes we slept together and after I fucked the women
Alec always made sure they knew where the door was) - a junkie looking for stuff to sell for drugs, Alec
was passed out drunk. I woke up seeing a strange looking man hovering over my side of the bed looking at
us - within a few quick seconds before my machete cut the guy across the arm a gun shot with a bullet in
the man's gut proved to me how razor sharp and swift Alec could be passed out drunk. I won't tell you
anymore about that situation except to say Alec could be downright brutal - the junkie was fortunate -Alec
rolled back over and before passing out again he told me I better finish taking care of it before he woke
back up. I sent the junkie out the back door he came in.

These days I believe a Higher Power was always there (and still is) even though neither of us had any faith
at the time. Alec, while he was alive, never had any faith in anything except in us. Of course we never
thought deeply about much of anything when it came to faith or the whys and the wonders.
We lived, did what we had to do to survive, we rode, we had good times and bad ones too.
We stopped running drugs in 78 - 79, slowly turning our contacts to others within our circle.
We continued to ride with our circle - they were the only family we had and the others slowly did as we
did - took real jobs and turned the drug over to the New Guard - we all saw what was coming out of
Mexico and South America and knew there would be violence and no codes of honor.

Seventeen outcasts from society on motorcycles. Straight, queer, BI. Motorcycles were our common bond
and the ties that bound all seventeen of us were that we all had come from abusive
dysfunctional families, from different parts of the country, drawn to the Golden Gate, California with its
sunny shores, populated by hippies, rebels, artists, musicians, outcasts, activists looking for love, drugs,
rock & roll, peace, freedom and new lives - brought together by a Higher Power for some unknown
reasons - one here another there and then two showed up at the bar last night who just pulled into town,
there's someone down on the rocks and he looks dead - oh he's drunk and passed out, there's the bike
under the roller coaster that's been sitting there for a few days and hasn't moved we better get over there
and see what's going on, "hey ya broken down - want a beer, where you headed to", "what's the matter man,
can't ya kick start that little piece of crap" - you know how it works - people meet and hang together and
meet others and hang together and a new family begins.
Those of us who are still alive of the "17 from..." have spread back out over the country.
(we always had associates say, "you all from santa cruz or san francisco - you all never seem to know
where you want to stay" - we had places we stayed in both cities, just depended on where we wanted to be
and what we might be doing in either place). None of us had any love or nurturing in our birthplaces. We
all left those places behind looking for love and acceptance, and in coming together survived and learned to
love and accept others like us while discovering not just ourselves but all that is around and about us.
Some have found God, some other spiritual beliefs.
We found each other then we found ourselves we continue to grow & age,
and although we don't live together some have passed from the earth
we Live Life and the memories of "us" continue to live within us all.

I lost Alec May 25, 1982 when he and his bike went over and down on a run to the Russian River.
Alec was one of the first casualties of AIDS known as the "gay flu" at the time.
My stepdad, George, died of liver failure in 1988 - I went back to KY long enough to find his grave & piss on it.
I was then able to face those issues and sweep them out the door.
It would be ten years later that I would finally find my biological father.
Overjoyed and happy that I had made finally realized that dream
the questions I had for him led to some new discoveries as to who my real mother was (my sister)
and the revelation that my grandmother was really my mother.
George (my stepdad) was married to "my false mother" and dicking my "real mother so called grandmother"
My biological father never abandoned me and never forgot me but time passed.
I'll write about that later on another page.
My point here is just when you think you got the answers you may be seeking,
another path reveals itself, another exploration begins and there's always a new discovery
of why we are and who we are! I'm still Living & Loving Life! Each new day brings something wonderful.

Sometimes it is extremely difficult to express ones' feelings and journaling is no different! For me, sometimes I enjoy what I
am feeling and other times I don't feel so good (not often) but don't like to read what I'm feeling bad about or talk about
what has happened but I tell you what - when you do that it all comes tumbling out and then you can get on with
something else....and of course there are times when I don't feel good and I do find other thngs to keep me busy to allow
that feeling to ebb away - other things are good distractions but that's like sweeping the dust under the rug or under the
stereo cabinet (worse yet is sweeping it under the sofa......it all is still there, swept aside but it gets noticed again and
again.... it's still there until you sweep it up and throw it in the trash or out the front door.....don't get me wrong - I'm not
perfect - who the fuck is?...I still get those bluesy days, not today, this little ditty is something I wrote to someone on the
internet who had a bad night and was feeling bluesy.......so did Hendrix, Joplin, Holiday, Corbain & Morrison to name
just a few - they wrote & sang NOT to entertain us but to give us comfort in knowing that there would always be someone
out there (dead or alive) who we could share both their and our discomfort with - that was their gift to us and our gift
back to them was those of us who were truly listening.....music moves the spirit and soothes the soul - today I was
listening to the Grateful Dead Live from a concert I attended in Golden Gate Park with Alec and our new buddies back in
San Francisco right after he and I arrived there in 1971 which is why I wrote about the ugly whore today - memories, times
good or bad, they strengthen my spirit and confirm the "whys" of
why I am still alive today (no one can honestly answer that question completely though).....
The Grateful Dead (now The Dead) believed their music belonged to the people and they still hold true to that -
over the past few years I have managed to download and burn MP3s from most of the weekend concerts I attended
over the years - you can find their music and download from the tapers archives all over the Net - Enjoy!
Jim................................Sept 2007