But dave is anxious and so am i to see great Cody who is always the major part of my reason for journeying to the west coast so we call him up at Los Gatos 50 miles away down the Santa Clara Valley and I hear his dear sad voice saying “Been waitin for ya old buddy, come on down right away, but I’ll be goin to work at midnight so hurry up and you can visit me at work soon’s the boss leaves round two and Ill show you my new job of tire recappin and see if you cant bring a little somethin like a girl or sumptin, just kiddin, come on down pal—”
So there’s old Willie waiting for us down on the street parked across from the little pleasant Japanese liquor store where as usual, according to our ritual, I run and get Pernod or Scotch or anything good while Dave wheels around to pick me up at the store door, and I get in the front seat right at Dave’s right where I belong all the time like old Honored Samuel Johnson while everybody else that wants to come along has to scramble back there on the mattress (a full mattress, the seats are out) and squat there or lie down there and also generally keep silent because when Dave’s got the wheel of Willie in his hand and I’ve got the bottle in mine and were off on a trip the talking all comes from the front seat—“By God” yells Dave all glad again “it’s just like old times Jack, gee old Willie’s been sad for ya, waitin for ya to come back—So now I’m gonna show ya how old Willie’s even improved with age, had him reconditioned in Reno last month, here he goes, are you ready Willie?” and off we go and the beauty of
it all this particular summer is that the front right seat is
