I had just turned 20 (1976) when I began living like agypsy.
It wasn’t by design, either.
It was out of necessity.
My first stop was Manomet, where I lived with my friend Mark and his friend Brad.
And if I’m being honest, I never felt entirely comfortable there.
I was riding a motorcycle then, a Yamaha TX650, and didn’t have a car.
I kept the motorcycle in their garage.
I was trying to be respectful.
I never meant for this to happen.
I immediately responded,“I’ll have the meatloaf.”
That’s when it got really weird.
Eating Chinese takeout is a festive event.
People pass the cartons to one another, comment on each, and eat with great joy and enthusiasm.
At that moment, I knew it was time to pull up stakes and move on.
(Where all dem gypsy women at?)
I’d have to be a Pinball Wizard to find another place to live on short notice…
