“What a long strange trip it’s been”

Jerry Garcia (deceased), long-time lead singer of “The Grateful Dead.”

Last night (Saturday, July 4th, 2015) the national TV-news reported The Grateful Dead would perform its final concert after 50 years.
The end of an era, so-to-speak, except I always felt that era ended with the ‘70s.
About 50 long years ago I became friends with a guy named Al Stokes. Albert, like me, was a native of deepest, darkest south Jersey.
South Jersey is a den-of-iniquity, where Satan rules.
New Jersey is two parts: north Jersey is the dump for New York City, and south Jersey is the dump for Philadelphia.
On top of this, PA was hyper about liquor, etc. So south Jersey had lots of liquor-stores and road-houses to placate evil-starved Pennsylvanians on their way back from the Jersey seashore.
Better yet, Al was from Wildwood, a seashore resort, and the pink-flamingo capital of the planet.
His father owned a junkyard, and I remember Al telling me about burning wiring-harnesses from cars to get the copper.
Al was writing a weekly column for a small weekly newspaper in Rochester (NY) called City/East, and I was doing motorsport coverage.
(City/East later expanded to become “City” newspaper.)
We were a pair: bleeding-heart liberals, and we had plenty to munch on, particularly Nixon’s Watergate scandal.
Al was a “Dead-head,” and I wasn’t.
He was hot to make me a “Dead-head,” a follower of “better living through chemistry.”
He wanted me to try pot, and mescaline, and L.S.D.
And “The Dead” seemed to represent this — awash in psychedelia.
He tried mightily to get me to smoke pot. He’d invite me to parties where everyone was zoning out.
“Get me outta here! It smells like burning wood.”
Thud! Another attempt skewered by supposedly improper values.
Al worshipped a local band that mimicked “the Grateful Dead.” He tried to get me to attend jam-sessions. I never did.
Finally I said to Al “your worship of ‘The Dead’ sounds like religion — like the solution to all life’s problems is chemical-madness and ‘The Dead.’”
He was taken aback. I had him good. Point well taken.
“All I gotta do is worship ‘The Dead,’ just like running to the alter to become a Bible-beating zealot.”
Funny, the TV interviewed “Dead-heads:” tie-dyed tee-shirts on aging fat-ladies.
They claimed following “The Dead” was a religion. But they weren’t taken aback.
Here they were slavishly following a religion that went out with the ‘70s. Aging hipsters.
Al had a Buick he beat the daylights out of, a ’63 four-door hardtop with the big engine. It was probably good for 120, and he’d cruise at 100.
It finally blew the motor on the Pennsylvania Turnpike Northeast Extension, driving to Wildwood.
By then Al had begun a job at a tool-and-die machining plastics, and became friends with a coworker who owned a Saab (“sob”) — one of the V4 Saab 96s.
He became a Saab freak, and bought one himself.
One afternoon leaving work his Saab got clobbered in the rear. It bent fenders and screwed up the unpowered rear-axle alignment. (Saabs are Front-Wheel-Drive.)
Al fished around and located a wrecked Saab in a junkyard. We could take the rear axle off it, and the fenders.
I remember crawling around in the snow removing the axle.
We got it off, and Al repaired his Saab.
So much for Rochester. Al had decided to move to San Jose, CA, to live with his sister.
His attempt to convert me into a “Dead-head” failed.
I was leery of chemical madness, and was stickin’ to my guns.
I purchased a few “Grateful Dead” albums. But to me they’re more a party-band, than out at the edge like Hendrix or Cream.
But they have one of the best lines from rock-and-roll music. It’s from “Sugar Magnolia” — “just like a Willys in four-wheel drive.”
The others are “Roll down the window, and let the wind blow back your hair” from Springsteen’s “Thunder Road.”
And “Strummin’ to the rhythm that the drivers made” from Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.”
You have to be a railfan to understand that last one.
Now, of course, I wonder if Al is still alive. I did a Facebook search, but came up with 89 bazilyun Albert Stokes.

• The “Jeep” was first made by Willys in WWII. It’s been through various makers since, like American Motors, and now it’s Chrysler.
• I’m a railfan, and have been since age-2. A steam-locomotive chuffs four beats to the bar. Each driving-wheel (driver) rotation has four chuffs.