It was the “turning point.” It began in 1963; the year I became a “Reject.” Rather, I joined the “Rejects of Southern California;” a car club that my best friend, Ron, invited me to join. What enticed me? Stories of drinking, carousing, sex; three activities in which I wasn’t very accomplished, unless one measures success by two arrests for alcohol-related misdemeanors, and nearly being lost in the abandoned mines of Calico on a car club outing. That day should have scared me plenty, but I hungered for more.
Growing up I was taught to have manners and to respect my elders. I was told to say thank you for the things I received. When I was told to do something and if I disobeyed and talked back to my parents, my father was quick to discipline me.