Johnny Stewart in the back of his friend’s car in the early sixties is a vivid one because it was my first kiss. Our teeth clicked. We snuggled into the green plush seat back in that old car and sped along the back roads on the Island of Guam. Johnny was an airman on the base where my Dad worked and he was a lifeguard at the pool on base. I was an avid swimmer. I am so glad he was my first kiss. That was my first memory of men in vehicles.
Then there was a ride back from the casino to my mother’s house with a fellow in the back of another fellow’s truck. The three of us had so much fun. This particular evening we were rocking and rolling around in the back of that truck and I’m thinking I am way too old to be doing this. I didn’t want to screech to a halt in front of my mom’s house so I banged on the truck window to let me out a block away. Disheveled, I said good night. Mom never knew. She didn’t know I did it another time with those two guys in her guest room where I was staying. We were all three very quick and sly. I could see her down the street talking to a friend. I miss those crazy guys. One worked for Amtrak and the other is an Artist. It sounds like we were teens but we were all in our fifties.