Truck U. II

Look what’s happening out in the streets
Got a revolution got to revolution
Hey I’m dancing down the streets
Got a revolution got to revolution
Ain’t it amazing all the people I meet
Got a revolution got to revolution

One generation got old
One generation got soul
This generation got no destination to hold
Pick up the cry
Hey now it’s time for you and me
Got a revolution got to revolution

Come on now we’re marching to the sea
Got a revolution got to revolution
Who will take it from you
We will and who are we
We are volunteers of America

Me and Keith, my friend from Rowdy High, would be roommates. And we would share a small cubicle at Payne Hall and call it home for the next year. Our new digs consisted of a coppola desks for studying and a stereo/turntable.

Me and Keith were strange bedfellows. Even tho we were friends he was more straight-laced. A top 40 kind of guy who was particularly fond of brass. He enjoyed "Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass" and "Blood, Sweat and Tears" who sang "Spinning Wheel," a big hit at the time. He also loved "I Get Around" by the Beachboys. I guess he was living vicariously through the surfers cos that song would touch something deep inside him. [ the word "vicariously" is used a lot in 2004, but back in tha day, no one thought of it much. ]

Keith, however, was a good friend. And we would be security blankets for each other-confiding in, whining to, and supporting each other.

We would start classes in the morning. We had perused the lobby our first nite at the dorm and had met some interesting characters.

"Are there any smokable butts in the ash tray?" asked the skinny, long-haired, red-headed dude who bounded down the stairs from the 2nd floor. We found out later that he hailed from sunny California. Heathcliffe was his name.

Me and Keith both looked at each other. "This ain't gonna be like Rowdy High," we both thought in unison.

And there was Trent and Larry who lived across from us. Trent was a laid-back kind of guy, who enunciated his words well, and seemed intelligent. He was from Florida. When we first entered his room, he was playing Jefferson Airplane's "Volunteers" [ for America ] An avante-garde reader, or so he claimed, Trent was spouting some philosophical bullshit to try to impress, I guess. I didn't know what in the hell he was talking about, so I just said "heavy" and "far out," dude. Plus, once again, I was thinking how different from Rowdy High this was gonna be.

We used a lot of catchy jargon back then. "Making the scene" was popular. "Love it or leave it" was another one used by the "establishment" aimed towards the "counter culture," who wanted to exit Viet Nam.

And Larry was Trent's roomie. Sort of a geek who thought he was smarter than me and Keith, cos he took calculus in high school and we didn't.

And there was Robert who lived a few doors away . He smacked of southern genteelism and had a very proper southern drawl but had the appearance of a smart-ass. When getting to know him he was a down-to-earth kinda guy. But he had an arrogant air and walked with a swagger.

There were others we would meet as we began our college career. John "Skuzzy" Davis, who put the "S" in skuzzy and Dave Elder. And then there were the two Steves, who had gone to Rowdy High with us. For the time being, however, we will postpone their intros until another time.

But our first night at Payne Hall, after unpacking and arranging what little personal effects we had, was uneventful. The first day of classes loomed on the horizon. I retired to the @%##@ upper bunk and Keith had his bottom berth. The next morning, I remember waking up in a sweat. I was shaking. My face, flushed.

"What's wrong, Vee?" Keith asked. He was already awake and was headed for the latrine, er, bathroom, which was 20 feet down the hall. Dressed in slippers and a robe, he had his shaving stuff with a towel draped over his arm.

"I had a nightmare, Keith."

"What'd you dream about, Vee? Surrounded by the Viet Cong in a rice patty in southeast Asia?"

"No, worse."

"What was it? I know, you dreamed you were Cass' boyfriend!" [ Mama's and Papa's Fame ]

"No, not even close."

"You were a policeman during the Democratic Convention, circa 1968? Mayor Daly, eh?"

"No, dude. I dreamed I graduated from Truck U. and landed a job in the food biz."

"Damn, Vee. You gonna be able to go to classes? I'll call a doctor."

"Thanks, Keith. It was horrible. I dreamed I spent my entire adult life working in a cafeteria. I had to deal with all sorts of passive-aggressive types. Customers. employees, bosses, government agencies-you name it. I had to work on weekends and holidays. I had to work 12 hour plus days. I was never home for my family. And my company kept reducing my benefits and I got two weeks vacation per year."

"I called the doctor, Vee. He'll be here soon."

"It was awful, dude. The worst nightmare I've ever had. In my dream, the customers were making unreasonable demands. The employees always expected instant gratification. Keith, you got a Xanax on you?"

"What's a Xanax?"

"In my dream it was a pill you took to help calm you down when things got hectic."

"Sorry, Vee. Maybe we can go to Bubba's tonite and buy some beer and get drunk. Sorry there's no-what'd you call it?"

"Xanax. Yeah, Bubba's sounds good. You said the doc will be here soon."

This concludes Truck U. 2.

Farewell and adieu, v.c.