Blog 13: Graduate 1966: Endings & Beginnings

Now that high school was over, the walls were closing in for a decision. I was a late bloomer, but I didn't want to wait until the all of petals fell off the stem. I would be applying for a summer job in anticipation of my college needs, but where? My parents hadn't created an endowment for me to rely on for college. I was hopeful I would have some assistance, but I needed another source of income. For me, I was itching to get my feet wet, and spread my wings. And wet feet I got. *

My dad said if I waited until my brother finished law school he would send me wherever I wanted to go. Sometimes I think maybe I should have done that. Some of my friends were going to UCSB. I had visited Santa Barbara and really liked Santa Barbara City College . It was really a nice campus set high on a hill back from the ocean. The campus had rolling green lawns and a spectacular view of the water.

The art department was noteworthy. My boyfriend at the time, who we will call Individual 1, helped me find an apartment nearby after I graduated. His father and stepmother lived in Goleta nearby. Another plus I thought. So the decision was made. My parents were on board. Now I had to get there.

After turning 16 I had gotten my license. My dad and I would take his car to the race track to driving, in the open spaces. He always owned cars with manual transmissions it seemed, and driving a stick required finesse. My dad had originally said he wouldn't help me buy a car until until I was 18. I usually had jobs for the summer. When I was hired at Scripps hospital to work in the kitchens the summer before my senior year, my schedule was awkward. Mom never drove, my brother and dad had their own schedules and I had to be at work by 5:00 am. A car was seemingly more likely. Of course it would have been hypocritical to tell me to be responsible and then not help me right? So my dad found a car deal and I suddenly had transportation to work! It was a two-tone, manual stick-shift, 1949 Chevrolet. The car had one previous owner, and it was clean inside, with low mileage.

I had dated a guy, who was a friend of another off and on boyfriend, who said he wanted to paint my car for graduation. He worked at an auto body shop. From two tone to dark metallic green, I rolled out of the parking lot. (The image is very close to what my car looked like)

More fitting I thought. Grateful. We always remained good friends. It was a sweet gesture. He sadly passed away from a tragic car accident about 10 years later. When I heard, I was living in the SF Bay Area.

Visually the car was in good shape but would it make it? It was time to leave. I had an apartment rented. Everything was packed. I loaded up the car. Finally it was show-time. We lived in a house in Solana Beach with a steep incline on the street, the kind that when you are driving at an angle you can't see the road. Just as I headed out in my car, the neighbor's German Sheppard jetted out in front of me. I was heartbroken. The neighbors had also been out out on the street with my parents, waving as I Ieft. Fortunately I was moving only fast enough to get over the incline. As a result the dog was barely grazed and didn't take a full impact. He was fine. Still, not the best way to start out.

Tears were shed saying good-bye and I was on the road. Prior to this journey, I had only driven short distances on the freeway. My driving skills were improving, but 200 miles was a long way for me to drive, and that meant going through Los Angeles. I noticed some gauges lighting up on the dashboard as night fell. The car was overheating. It turned out to be a failing water pump. I inched my way the last 50 miles until I arrived, taking breaks to allow the car to cool. I stopped at a phone booth to call my dad. I expected he would be empathetic but he was angry. I never was sure if he was angry with me for leaving, or the mechanical breakdown.

On my way

I finally arrived at my destination, but I suddenly felt alone. I picked up a few groceries on my way to my studio apartment to get settled in. I would be starting college soon. A good rest was needed. There was a lot to process.

Apartment Complex (my car)

*Originally this blog was a part of a previous blog "It Happened at Denny's."  After I found a letter in storage about week ago that I wrote in 1968,  I noticed that I had made an error regarding the timeline when I worked at Denny's.   Originally I thought I worked there right after my high school graduation.   I discovered that I actually worked there in the summer of 1968.  I had a few semesters of college behind me and I was home for the summer.  Since some of the material in the original blog didn't fit, I decided to write a blog with the removed portions here. 

 

This will only make sense if you read the original blog, "It Happened at Denny's" before this revision.