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Genesis of the trip

Our Villanova second semester ended earlier than any other college in the country. We were dismissed in late April, almost every year for some reason.

Our strategy was to take a hitch-hiking trip west, hitting both LA and San Francisco; and be back to NJ by mid June. Bob was going to take some summer classes. I don't think he had to work any of these summers. My "work" was a gas. I had an ocean lifeguard job lined up for the summer south at the Jersey Shore.

My partner on this adventure was Robert Farley. We had met freshman year, he was a gangly blue eyed Irish American boy from Jersey City. In the spring of 1973, we had hitched to Fort Lauderdale from Philly on less than 15 bucks a piece. We had promised ourselves on the return of that trip, that the next trip, we would hit the West coast. For this upcoming trip, I had saved about 130 dollars.

Roberto had confided to this mom his plan, and his dad was dead set against it. He forbade him to go, he wanted him to stay home and get a summer job. Bob basically packed a bag, hitched up from his home at Point Pleasant. He told his dad he was coming up to see me for a few days. I was home maybe one day, when he showed up, I was shooting hoops and it was a lovely spring evening.

We were totally stoked. We planned on taking Route 80 West, and then dropping southwest at some point and heading for southern California. Nothing more than that. Not a lot of details, but a "go for it" attitude with a lot of flexibility. That evening, my dad got home from work, and we gathered around for the usual family dinner, with Nick at the head of the table, holding court. My younger brother and sister were quiet listening to this imminent adventure. My mom cooked a great dinner, my Dad busted Bob's balls at the meal. All we needed was sunrise.

When my family went to bed, we had our gear set up in the living room. I had a B.S.A green canvas Yucca pack, an old dusty sleeping bag. Not much more than an extra shirt, corduroys, jeans and a pair of Katin surf baggies stuffed in there. Roberto had a longer blue dufflebag, with his sleeping bag stuffed in the bottom.

We watched a really weird science fiction movie: "The World, the Flesh and the Devil" around midnite. It was apocalyptic cinema, Harry Belafonte, Inger Stevens and Mel Ferrer are the only people left in a post-apocalyptic world, Harry Belafonte emerges from a mine after an accident and discovers that the world is deserted, except for Inger Stevens and Mel Ferrer. Some kind of nuclear war has taken place and there are few survivors. No dead bodies, no rotting corpses. No physical body traces of any kind an odd 1959 movie. There are striking images of a deserted New York City. There was a dummy in the movie they called "Snodgrass"

When the morning came, my dad was off to work, and he woke me up. I was in the middle of a dream, and I woke startled and said: "I am having a dream". And his reply was "Was it worth it?".

A quick bowl of cereal, and Nick drove us north through Fort Lee, to the GW Bridge, and the start of Route 80. If we made it all the way across, we should wind up in San Francisco. We shook hands and his last advice (always) was "Watch your ass!". We scrambled out and down the cement stairs to the westbound ramp coming out of Manhattan.

We nailed our first ride immediately.
California, here we come!