Maybe my friends were right. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. Although it sure seemed like a good one at the time, I'm thinking as I sit hand cuffed in the back of a cop car on the main street of Truckee just waiting for the cops to open my bright red backpack with the 11 pounds of pot in it. Which is sitting on the seat in the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser that they are so diligently searching. It all started innocently enough; a friend of mine in San Diego called me and said that he had six kilos of Mex reg that I could have for only $500. Since Mex was going for $120 a pound this was a real deal. I told him that I’d take it and be there in a week with the cash. I called five of my friends, three in the City and two in the country and asked them if they wanted two pounds for only $100.
They of course, said "Yes." Especially since this was June and the dry season was just starting.
After delivering theirs to them I would get three pounds for free to party the summer away with. All I had to do was hitch down to San Diego, hitch back up to Nevada City then over to Truckee to off a pound each with the freeks up in the woods, back to San FranCheeseCo and unload the other three. I figured that I’d do the deliveries this way because if I went to The City first and started partying, there would be no telling what might happen. I might not make it out of there with the other two LB’s intact.
My friends in the City thought that I had to be both crazy and stupid to hitch around California with 13 pounds of grass in a backpack. Because once you left the City with long hair wearing tie dyed clothes, you were fair game for every cop and redneck in the state. Both of which there were plenty. However, I reminded them of the Medicine Man. He was a freek who every year hitched from Seattle to Larado via SF. He bought 5000 dried peyote buttons (from the county sheriff, he said), put them into a duffel bag then hitched back to Seattle distributing them on his merry way with no hassles in the whole three years that we knew him. We always looked forward to his visits because peyote is the finest psychedelic in the world. I told them that when it got real dry this summer they'd sure appreciate the smoke I would have. They still thought that I was nuts but couldn't argue with that.
So down I go to San Diego and make the deal, hitch up to Nevada City drop off the first pound with no problem. The first drop was a ways outside of town on Owl Creek. The next drop was outside of Truckee on Wolf Creek, there's a lot of animal creeks up in the woods.
Anyway, next morning after the drop I'm walking down a dirt road about 10 a.m. when a Land Cruiser pulls up and asks if I want a ride to town. I say "Sure" putting my backpack on the back seat then hop in.
The freek has real long uncombed hair and beard and is wearing nothing but a leather loincloth, my kind of people.
I whip out a joint and ask if he wants to partake of some herb this fine morning. He sniffs it and asks what it is. I tell him. He then throws it up unto his dash board and says, "Naa, I got some good Colombo, let's smoke that instead."
I say "Fine by me." So he fires it up and we suck it down. It was pretty good too. We chat on the drive to Truckee. He tells me that he lives on some land that he and some of his friends bought and are trying to get a small commune going, then gives me direction in case I ever want to check it out. His name is Fast Fred.
We cruise into town and he pulls to the curb right behind a cop car with two cops in it. Fred jumps out and yells to the cops, "Hey, how zit hangin boys?" which he thinks is funny, but the cops take one look at him and Do Not!
The cops are out of their car in a flash. One says to Fred, "I don't know where you think you are BOY! But you'd better have some pants in that Jap Jeep of yours or your long haired ass is going to jail"
I hear this and know that no good will come of it. I grab my pack and hope that I can get out of the Toyota without being seen and make a quick getaway. The other cop comes over to the Jeep, sees the joint on the dash then yells, "Marijuana! Hold it right there." to Fred and the cops are on him faster than stink on shit.
They've seen me too, so I put the pack back down on the seat and sit there knowing that I am well and truly fucked. There is no way that I am not going to prison, and for a long long time. I can even see the headlines in tomorrow’s Truckee Times, "Major Drug Bust" “Police Seize 11 Pounds Of Marijuana On Downtown Street. Two Captured!” They may even run my picture. I might even make the Sacramento newspaper and TV if it’s a slow news day. The cops tell me to get slowly out of the car. I do. They search me then my shoulder bag. They find nothing. There's no point in searching Fred.
They ask whose joint it is. I look at Fred, he's not talking, so I say "It's mine."
Fred looks at me like he's sorry but shit happens, and anyway, to be busted for a joint is no big deal, a couple weeks in county lock up and a years unsupervised probation so he thinks it’s no biggie. Just wait until they open my backpack. The cops ask us if we have any more.
Fred says, "No."
I truthfully say, "That was my last joint."
They cuff us then put us in the back of the squad. They call for back up so they can really search the Land Cruiser. Fred tells me that he's sorry.
I just mumble "Whatever.” I have nothing else to say until the cops ask me if I want a lawyer. I sit there thinking of what the next four or five years will be like, and only one word comes to mind and that is; BAD!
Two more cops come as back up and the four of them proceed to tear that Toyota apart. Everything comes out, is looked at then put on the sidewalk. A crowd gathers, at least I'll have an audience when the real show begins.
Half an hour later the Toyota is in shambles but they still haven’t touched my backpack, they must be saving it until last. A cop walks over to the cop car and gets in with us. He asks me who I am to this guy. I tell him that I am just a hitchhiker. Fred who wants to distance himself from me says, "That's right officer, I don't know him. I just gave him a ride is all."
The cop nods, then says to Fred, “Well, you are going to jail for possession of marijuana."
Fred surprised says, "But it was his joint.” pointing to me.
Which really pisses me off. It was his stupid jiving with the cops, connoisseur Colombo smoking undressed ass that got us into this mess in the first place. Plus it was chickenshit of him not to take responsibility for the J since he was the one who threw it on the dash because it wasn't good enough for his refined tastes.
The cop says "Maybe so, but it was in your car, so it was in your possession and it's your ass that's going in." Fred is stunned, he don't know what to say.
The cop says to me, "Is that your backpack?" He points to it lying on the sidewalk with the rest of the stuff they tore out of the car.
I think, 'Well, here it comes.' and say, "Yes."
He says, "Go and get it." as he uncuffs me. Then he says, "Do you know where the bus station is?"
I assure him that I do.
"Then get your ass over there and take the first bus out of town, and don't ever let me see you in Truckee again. Understand!”
I understand perfectly.
I am as stunned as Fred. I am not going to jail. I am FREE!
I smile and tell Fred sorry, then get out of the cop car. I tell the other cops "Have a nice day."
I grab my pack and get the hell out of there still not believing my good fortune. I am on my way to the Dog and freedom with the 11 pounds of marihoochie still intact.
The first bus out of town is just pulling in as I get to the station is on it's way to San Francisco. I buy a ticket and get on, sitting in the very front seat so I can see freedom as it passes by.
I still can hardly believe my luck when a cute little hippie chick with long blond hair and deep blue eyes gets on the bus, takes a look at the seating then plunks down right next to me and says, "Hi. My name is Jill Ann. I'm on my way home to Riverside after spending two weeks at a commune with a bunch of religious nuts outside of town who I just could not stand a minute longer, and since I hate traveling alone, I hope you don't mind a little company.”
WOW! Here I thought I’d be looking at nothing but bars and big ugly guys for the next five years and here's this beautiful babe instead who’s even coming on to me. What a Life! Jill Ann and I chat all the way to Sacramento where she's transferring to a southbound bus to San Berdoo.
By the time we reach Sac she's gotten real friendly, has given me her address and phone number and had made me promise on pain of death to visit her just as soon as my business in the City is taken care of. When she gets off the bus, she give me a big hug then kisses me saying "Remember your promise. See ya soon." blows me a kiss and is gone.
I got to the City, delivered the pounds, told all my friends this tale who all said how extremely lucky I was. A week later I hitched down to Riverside to see Jill Ann but that's another story. I did see Fast Fred again too, but that also, is another story.