Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Take Susan Bromberg, a lanky girl from Boston nearly a head taller than me. Experiment-
ing with the road as a place of being, serving her internship to the age upon us, Susan crawled
into the back seat of the soulful Volvo that had picked me up from the on-ramp. We'd driv-
en a few exits down to an off-campus apartment complex where we pulled in for Susan, who
hugged her friends and put her pro-model backpack with lumbar support into the trunk.
The two guys with the Volvo had posted a ride on a bulletin board at the University. Susan
had called and arranged for the ride. It was organized and civil with expectations clearly
stated. When the Volvo boys pulled over for me, one asked if I could help pay for gas. I pulled
Jimmy's credit card halfway out of my vest pocket. He opened the back door.
So the four of us were on our way to LA till one of the guys turned around to ask Susan
and me how we felt about veering off to check out Taos. Taos had become a gathering point, a
haven for the happening and what might be happening next. Susan actually put a knuckle on
her chin before nodding ponderously. Sure, she could be cool with Taos. She'd heard it was a
groove, possibly a gas. She'd heard of the hot springs at Taos. They were supposed to be
really
something
. That pegged her as suburban with parental influence, out for an adventure with the
other kids, sampling the Revolution before settling down to a real life of stability, security and
convenience. She'd just graduated Boston College, and boy, did she ever feel relieved, finally
done with studying and stuff. She would begin pursuit of a master's degree in psychology only
two months down the line, so Taos seemed like a spontaneously perfect spice for her adven-
ture soufflé. Her brief bio ended on a groan that she didn't even want to think about more
school, not until she had to anyway.
“It's not like you have to go,” I said.
She laughed short with resignation. “But I do,” she said, pegging suburban coordinates one
more time.
The two guys in front also hailed from the east coast and said they too had recently gradu-
ated in the
Bahstin
area. Small world, but Harvard was not what it used to be and, frankly,
they were ready for some action before hunkering down on legal careers. The Harvard degree
could not guarantee the presidency of the United States of America or the Supreme Court for
that matter, but, really, you had to respect the stats and be ready.
Stick thin and tall with impressive posture, Susan Bromberg did not slump to better meet
her peers. Apparently sheltered, she had keener instincts than the average princess. Surely
Daddy would have fixed the frizzy brown hair and arched nose, as surely she resisted. With
such good manners, she was easy to like. She eyed me back and blushed, pretty in her way, but
no, I did not want to be an item with her. I admired her womanly attributes, as hormonally
crazed young males have done since forever. But prospects for intimacy with Susan Bromberg
seemed distant, objective and impersonal.
“So we're cool, sharing the gas three ways?” The dude riding shotgun turned and squared
his torso to better pose the question. Susan deferred to my apparent seasoning on such a rude
