Hippie Road Trip; part one

In 1971 I was living in Iowa, on a farm with a bunch of other hippies. One of those hippies was a woman named 'Kiva', who was older than the rest of us, and a bit exotic to us because she was a New York City, Jew. She was exotic to me because growing up in Tinley Park, I believe there was only one Jewish family in town, total. One day in early spring, Kiva and I hit upon the idea of traveling to New York City in my Volkswagen Minibus. It seemed like a great idea to me, so with no planning, and very little money, we were off on a hippie adventure.

Our first stop traveling from Iowa, was my parents house in Tinley Park. My parents were not at home when we arrived, and all I really remember is a gaggle of my little sisters in the kitchen looking at us, all big eyed like we had just dropped in off some other planet. I would really be curious as to what they were thinking when they saw their big brother and this strange woman standing in the midst of their little world.

After a short visit with my family, we continued on eastward towards NYC. We drove almost non-stop, trading off driving, listening to really cool music on my 8-track tape player (an obsolete technology that used a never-ending loop of tape, and often would change tracks right in the middle of a song) and smoking hand rolled cigarettes.

I thought I was familiar with big cities, having lived in Chicago for a while, but my first impression upon entering New York by way of the George Washington Bridge was like nothing I had ever felt. I swear I could feel the energy of all eight million inhabitants as I drove off the bridge, into Manhattan. We turned north, towards the Bronx and Kiva's moms house. I was surprised when Kiva's mom opened the door and screamed "Barbra, what aw you doing heah?". Up until that moment I had never known Kiva's real name, in fact I hadn't even considered it. Within minutes, Kiva's mom transformed her from a new age hippie woman, with a vague aura of magic, into a Jewish girl named Barbra from the Bronx. Her mom didn't like anything about what she saw, especially me. So the next morning, after eating a strange breakfast made up of something I had never heard of before, 'lox, and cream cheese on a bagel', we went into Manhattan to find a place for me to stay.

To be continued...