in 1997, i was living in a trailer in a cornfield in hollister, california. it was the 50th anniversary of the battle of hollister, in which motorcycle maniacs descended on the town and wreaked media panic. thousands of bikers were projected to attend.
the local police positioned snipers on the rooftops in town. the SWAT teams took over my local one-room grange hall on the highway.. in town, the merchants closed up and went home to avoid dealing with the maniac bikers. in neighboring san juan bautista, the authorities cut irrigation ditches along the highway to keep the motorcyclists from riding their choppers through the cotton fields.
back at my trailer, the first of a projected 5000 campers showed in my cornfield. the first arrived in a minivan, towing his hog on a trailer. he stopped a ways from my barn, and a golden retriever jumped out of the minivan. he produced a frisbee, and began playing fetch with the retriever.
that night eddie money performed live in the cornfield, and i listened for free. a few days later, the bikers left, puzzled as to why the only two grocery stores were closed the whole time and there was nothing open in town except the one bar. which a biker drove his machine through, in remembrance of marlon brando in The WIld Ones.
RIP, eddie money.
every day you do not take a chance is a day of your life that you will never get back.