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Introduction:

The fourth story in a series of stories told from the perspective of my older friend Gary aka 67Goat
Change has a way of passing slowly through a small Pennsylvania town, like an old man window shopping on a Sunday afternoon. As in previous years, the summer of 1967 rolled in with little in the way of fanfare. There were however, some visible changes in my life that year. I was still working at my friend’s father’s shop. I was doing well there after being there a couple of years. I had actually managed to save up enough money to trade in the ‘61 Impala on a brand new 1967 Pontiac GTO, or ‘goat‘ as they are commonly called. A red convertible, with white bucket seats and matching white rag top. It was my first ‘67 Goat and started a love affair with that car that is still with me today. I used to talk about that car so much that my friends actually started calling me ‘67 Goat. That is how I got the nickname. The other fairly visible change in my life was that I was no longer going out with Debbie. It was an amicable split and one that would start a new chapter in my life.

As much as the world seemed to be changing in the sixties, you really couldn’t tell by looking around Main Street. The soda fountain on the corner and Old Man Jones’ hardware store sure looked the same to me. Yet there were changes brewing. We saw it on TV. The hippie movement, the war in Vietnam. Yet, it seemed the only way it really affected small town Pennsylvania was when someone’s son got sent home in a box.

The sixties were a fascinating time to be young and curious. If there was an apt description of my friends and myself it would be young and curious. I had a couple of good friends I used to hang out with who shared my curiosity and my taste in music. It was a time when rock groups like The Who and the Jimi Hendrix Experience were just breaking out. That summer of ‘67 was the so called ‘Summer Of Love.’ The more mellow British Invasion groups were starting to be replaced by heavy psychedelic rock on the air waves. That June in ‘67 marked the Monterey Pop Festival where Jimi Hendrix made his debut in a drug induced spectacle of pyrotechnics. A few short years ago, The Beatle’s wanted to hold your hand. Now the Rolling Stones were singing ‘Let’s Spend The Night Together.’ It seemed the world was changing fast and my friends and I were starting to think it was passing this town by.

One evening in July, I was sitting at a table drinking beer with two buddies of mine. My friend James was a fellow car nut. He was working on an old ‘32 Ford coupe with a flathead V-8. Actually, he’d been working on it for as long as I can remember. My other friend Chris was a film student. He was the only guy I knew who didn’t have a car, but he spent all his money on a Bolex H-16 movie camera. I think he had dreams of becoming a big time Hollywood director or something. All I knew is he was going to film school out in Philly. As we sat around getting drunker by the hour, the conversation turned to events in the news. On the table was the July 7, 1967 issue of Time magazine. The cover story was entitled "The Hippies: The Philosophy of a Subculture." After a few more brews, Chris began to speak.

“I would really like to go out to San Francisco and film the stuff going on. You know, the whole hippie thing.” He began, “It would make a great film.”

James and I sat silently for a while. I didn’t have to look at him or hear him speak to know what he was thinking. He was the impulsive type who would probably jump at the idea. I was a bit more conservative, having never really been away from home.

“How would you even get out there?” I started, “You don’t even have a car.”

“My parents have the Ford wagon.” James chimed in enthusiastically, “I’m sure they’d let me use it.”

“Oh, that would be great man.” Chris replied.

I sat there quietly and pondered the situation for a long moment. As I sat there, it seemed that plans were being made for me. By the end of the evening it was agreed that as long as I could get the time off from work, I was in. We had planned to be gone a month, a weeks drive there, a weeks drive back, and two weeks in the Haight-Ashbury section of San Francisco. It would prove to be an adventure I will never forget.

The following morning I told my parents. They were less than enthusiastic, but my father seemed to agree that I should at least do these things while I was young. My mother reluctantly agreed. The next step was to break the news to my boss. Since I had been working there for about two years, with no significant time off, he too agreed. It was all set. History in the making, as we liked to think.

On a warm Tuesday morning, just under a week after that fateful beer-fueled night, James pulled up in front of my house in his parent’s ‘62 Ford Country Squire station wagon. The door sills were rusting out, as sixties Fords always seemed to do, but the rust sort of matched the fake wood appliqu?long the side of the car. It wasn’t pretty, but it would get us there. I kissed my mom goodbye and gave my dad a hug. I walked out and threw my bags in the back of the car. James drove over to Chris’s house, where he was waiting outside with metal cases of camera equipment and a couple of beat up old suitcases.

“You guys can help me load the camera cases, OK?” Chris greeted us with.

I sort of knew he wanted us along for something. That, and to protect him in case someone tries to beat him up and steal his cameras.

A few minutes later, we made our way out onto the highway armed with a stack of maps from the local Esso station. In a couple of hours, we were cruising down the highway through middle America. I can tell you that most of the country looks the same between the coastal areas. Still, it felt good to be on our own. What adventure lie before us we did not know.

For the most part, the first few days were very uneventful. We did have one flat tire just out of Ohio. We really hadn’t got that far. By nightfall, we found a cheap hotel. Chris had agreed to pay all the transportation and boarding expenses, at least until we got out to the west coast. James and I had no problem with that.

The next couple of days were uneventful almost to the point of boredom. By the time we got out to Nevada, the mountain views were quite spectacular and our excitement was starting to build knowing we would be at our destination in a day or so. Just outside of Carson City, Nevada along old Route 50 we pulled into a gas station. While Chris and James took care of filling the Ford wagon up, I headed around back to the restroom.

Walking around the side of the building, I was greeted by an unexpected sight talking on a pay phone. She had long, dark brown hair and was wearing a T-shirt and short cut-off shorts. It was fairly clear that she had nothing under that shirt except a pair of perfect breasts. She looked rather hot, in every sense of the word perhaps, but didn’t seem to notice me pass as I headed into the restroom.

When I had finished my business and went back outside, the girl was still there. She had finished her phone call and seemed a bit sad. I said ‘hello’ in a casual sort of way. I stood there for a few minutes attempting some light conversation. I really wanted to get a better look at her. She told me she was stranded here at the gas station. I explained to her that my friends and myself were driving out to San Francisco. She told me that’s where she was heading and practically begged me to take her along.

“Please, I need a ride. I’ll make it worth your while.” She practically begged,.

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” I answered.

I knew it wasn’t a problem for me, but then again it was not my car. When I introduced Linda, as she told me her name was, the other guys they didn’t seem to have a problem either. James certainly didn’t, judging by his newfound enthusiasm. Chris was always a bit quieter and more conservative. It was hard to believe this trip was his idea sometimes. He must really want to film the events in Haight-Ashbury badly.

James got back in the car in the driver’s seat. Chris got in next to him on the passenger’s side. I was in the back behind James and Linda was seated next to me. In a short moment, we were headed back out onto Route 50 going toward California.

After about ten minutes I felt something on my thigh. I looked down and saw Linda’s hand. I grabbed her hand with mine and held it. I really didn’t know what to expect, but it felt good.

About 20 minutes later, it started to rain. James turned the wipers on in the old Ford. As I watched the rain hit the windshield, I could see the wipers going back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm. As the rain started to fall harder on the roof of the car, Linda squeezed my hand and smiled. I glanced over at her big, brown eyes and became immediately aroused. This fact did not go unnoticed by her.

A couple of minutes later I could feel Linda’s other hand reach over and undo my pants. Her long, dark hair was dangling down brushing my thighs. By this time I was as hard as the Rock of Gibraltar. Linda began to stroke my engorged member as she looked up at me and giggled. I let out a sigh loud enough to get noticed by my friends in the front seat. Chris turned around quickly and gave me a quick glance. He sensed what was going on and immediately turned back around.

Linda then put her lips on my engorged member. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the seat. My knees pressed hard into the front seat of the car. It was obviously felt by James.

“Oh yeah, baby! Go for it.” He practically shouted. Chris didn’t say a word.

As I leaned back in the seat, I could feel Linda’s tongue masterfully teasing the head of my cock as the tension built up throughout my body all the way down to my toes. Linda’s sucking was creating sounds which were clearly heard by my friends in the front seat.

“Oh yeah!” James exclaimed.

A couple of minutes later, I felt myself ready to explode. I let out a bit of a grunt as I shot my load into Linda’s mouth. I sat there relieved as Linda cleaned off any remaining drops with her tongue as the rain fell with a metallic drone on the roof of the car.

“Hey, am I next?” James asked.

“Shut up.” I blurted out.

“Just asking.” James said with a laugh.

I sat back and zipped up my pants. After a few moments, I once again took Linda’s hand and held it. We both sat quietly for some time as the old Ford barreled down Route 50.

I glanced over at Linda from time to time. We really didn’t talk much. She did tell me she was out of high school. I had figured as much. I had guessed she was about eighteen. I started to think about how pretty she was, and what was a beautiful young girl doing stranded at a gas station in Nevada with no way out. She occupied my thoughts, but I didn’t dare ask too many questions. It just didn’t seem right. I just couldn’t get her out of my mind, though.

When we got to California, the scene was quite spectacular. There were people everywhere on the streets. As we drove through the Haight-Ashbury area, we had never seen so many long-haired hippies. Heck, we had never seen any in small town Pennsylvania. We were really quite transfixed as we stared out the windows of the car.

When we stopped in town, Linda told us she was supposed to meet some friends here in the area. She assured me she would be alright as we parted ways. I truly hoped so, but for some reason had my doubts. Maybe I was bit small town, old-fashioned, but somehow a girl on her own in a bit city just didn’t seem right. I wished her well as I watched her walk away.

After Linda left, my friends and I made some attempt to find a spot for the car and perhaps for ourselves. Chris was enthusiastic about the goings on and was anxious to start filming. There were people in tie-dye and people selling trinkets of all sorts and people playing guitars. Let’s just say there were people. Lots of them.

James and I did help Chris with some of the equipment cases and he did do some filming in the afternoon. For the most part, people were curious about what he was up to and were friendly. I was just not used to the crowds and sometimes felt a bit uncomfortable about it. We later realized that there were way too many people in the area. We were not the only small town kids who came to see the hippies. There was a severe shortage of rooms available and people were sleeping in nearby Golden Gate Park. There was a certain tension in the air that was not all peace and love. People stayed too long and soon were begging for food. After a few days, we were starting to refer to it as Hate-Ashbury. We were not the only ones.

The severe room shortage led us to “crash” with various people we met during our stay. This could be either good or bad, depending on the day. A lot of things about the trip were very “seat of the pants.” I spent a couple of nights sleeping in the back of the station wagon mainly because it was more peaceful than most of the alternatives. I kept a set of keys in my pocket for that reason. Several days into the trip, I was feeling very homesick and decided to take a walk down to Golden Gate Park to ease my mind. A walk would do me good, no doubt.

As I walked through the park, I took in all the sights. There were people singing and dancing while others played guitars and banged on drums. The distinct smell of reefer wafted through the air. I walked for quite a while, just gathering my thoughts, when I decided to rest against a tree. I unrolled a pack of Camels from my shirt sleeve and lit one up.

As I leaned back against the tree smoking my cigarette, I thought I heard a familiar voice. I looked to my right and caught sight of Linda. She seemed to be arguing with some guy. From my vantage point, I could see the guy try to grab her hand. Suddenly, I heard her shout out loud.

“Leave me alone! Go away.” She said in a highly agitated tone.

I stomped out the cigarette with my shoe and walked towards Linda and the guy she was with. I walked right up to him and got right in his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked, somewhat upset.

“A friend of Linda’s.” I answered.

“So what? Is he?” He asked turning to Linda.

Linda looked at me with her big, brown eyes. She looked sad. In a few moments she answered.

“Yes, he’s a friend of mine.”

“What’s going on here?” I asked him directly.

“Nothing. I was just leaving.” He answered in a huff.

I thought to myself that was pretty easy. That certainly could have went a lot worse. I turned to Linda and looked at her sad face.

“Who was that?” I inquired.

“Just some guy who wouldn’t leave me alone.” She answered.

“You OK?” I asked her.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“How about we go get a cup of coffee or something?” I asked.

“Sure.” She replied.

I took her by the hand and led her out of the park. A couple of blocks down we found an outdoor caf? We found ourselves a table right next to the sidewalk. It was perfect for people watching. When the waiter came, we both ordered a cup of coffee. I stared across the table at Linda silently for a few moments. She really did look so beautiful. Somehow though, she just didn’t seem to belong here. Perhaps she was not the only one.

“So, what brings you out here?” I asked her.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She started, “Looking for a change, I guess. Something different.”

There was that word, “change.” I pondered my own situation for the moment. I didn’t really have to come out here.

“How about you?” She inquired, “So, what brings you out here?”

“I guess I just needed a change.” I answered.

“I guess we’re all just searching for something.” Linda added.

I sat there with my coffee taking in the sights around me. So many people came out here to The Haight. What were they all looking for? So many people looking for love in the Summer of Love? Did they really all think they could find it here?

I kept glancing over at Linda from time to time. Again, she really did look quite beautiful in her tight T-shirt and cutoffs. She caught me glancing at her and gave me a sly smile. I returned her looks with a smile of my own.

“How would you like to get out of here?” I asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She said with a bit of a giggle.

We paid our bill and I led Linda away from the table by the hand. We were soon walking down the street hand in hand, enjoying the nice weather and taking in the sites. As we stopped at a crosswalk, I suddenly had the urge to kiss her. I looked at her eyes as she gazed into mine. Her eyes were so big and brown. I leaned forward as she leaned in to meet my lips with hers. We kissed for a moment, savoring the taste and feel of each other’s mouths. We held each other tight for a moment until we both sensed that the light had changed.

We crossed the street and resumed our walk. I started to think to myself where would could go for more privacy. I had been staying with James and Chris in a studio apartment we “crashed” in with some people Chris had met while filming. There really was a room shortage here. Suddenly, I got an idea.

“Come with me.” I say to Linda.

We walk to an alleyway where the Ford station wagon is parked. The car is backed in, the front of the car facing the street. I pull my set of keys out of my pocket as I lead her around to the tailgate. As I opened the tailgate, Linda giggled.

“Are you serious?” She asked.

“Um, yeah. It’s not that bad.” I started, “I’ve slept here a few times.”

I proceeded to spread out a blanket I had in the back, covering the floor of the cargo area. I grabbed her hand and helped her up into the back of the wagon then closed the tailgate behind us.

“See, not so bad.” I said.

“Yeah, right Gary.” She replied.

I then pulled her close to me and held her face with my hands as I captured her soft lips with mine. I slipped my tongue into her mouth as our tongues began to explore. I pulled her T-shirt up over her head and tossed it aside, revealing those perfect orbs I’ve been dreaming of. I quickly managed to get out of my own clothes, with a bit of help from Linda perhaps before helping her off with her cutoff shorts.

I then delicately stroked her neck and earlobes with fingertips and soft kisses as I made my way down her neck with my lips, tongue and fingertips. I teased her erect nipples with my mouth as I circled them with soft tongue strokes. Linda grabbed my cock and did her own massaging. It felt so good. I managed to reach down and insert first one finger, then two between her puffy lips and into her moistened love canal.

I soon realized things were going to be tight in the back of the wagon for what we where heading towards. I took a quick look around. There was a metal equipment case of Chris’s for some of his film equipment. I quick grabbed it and slid it up towards the back seat of the car. I draped part of the blanket over it to make it a bit softer. I then turned Linda around and bent her over the case. She had her hands on the back of the car seat for support.

Reaching behind Linda I then began to stroke her wet pussy lips, slowly going deeper and harder with my fingers. I moistened my thumb with her juices and teased her butt hole as I massaged her wet mound with my remaining fingers. Her soft moans were becoming increasingly louder and more intense. I withdrew my fingers and started to slid the head of my cock between her wet folds. It felt so good as I looked down at her perfect young butt. ‘God, was it gorgeous’ I thought to myself. I slowly eased on in as I grabbed her by those perfect butt cheeks. I started to thrust, slowly at first, as the old Ford wagon literally started to rock with our movements.

Lifting my head up and looking forward for a moment, I could see people passing by through the front windshield. The car was parked far back enough in the alley that they probably wouldn’t notice us. At least I hoped not.

I continued my thrusting with renewed vigor. The old wagon was rocking gently with our movements and you could hear the suspension creak as we got it on. Those sounds were soon drowned out by the sounds of Linda as she began to cum in waves. I could feel her juices flowing down her soft thighs as her tight vaginal muscles grabbed me and literally squeezed me dry. We both came together in a fairly loud cacophony in the back of that old Ford.

Linda and I lay next to each other for a while afterwards in the back of the wagon. It was very peaceful as we just held hands and talked. I found out Linda was from Pennsylvania as well, only about twenty minutes from where I lived. She ended up taking the drive back with us in the wagon and we began seeing each other once we got home. It was a relationship that ended up lasting for some time.

Chris ended up with some interesting footage and James seemed to have a good time. Then again, James is one of those guys who always seemed to have a good time. Shortly after he got back home, he met a new girlfriend. The four of us would frequently double date. Chris went off to film school in the fall. He never did become a famous director, though.

It was nice to get back to my small town. As I looked around Main Street at the local people, I had a renewed appreciation for the people I grew up with. The people I knew and loved with their old-fashioned values and beliefs.

Yes, change comes slowly to a small town. Perhaps that is a good thing.

03-03-10.
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