Rebel Randy’s Road Diaries Entry Date: October 20, 1979 I took part in an orgy last night. Hitchhiking can take you places. It can take you to the car of a woman, who’s much to old to be driving in the first place, let alone picking up a stranger. But like me, she was a rebel. Pauline was her name, and her game had no rules. I could tell by the wheezing that she was a smoker. She asked for a Marlboro, but I passed her some hash. That soothed the nerves. I asked her, “When was the last time you went out dancing?” “1955,” she said, “just before my husband died.” A widow? Jackpot. You know how they say older women are better in bed, because they’re more experienced? Well, older widows are even better, because they go into it with nothing to lose. If you’ve never had the pleasure, invest in some lube, and give it a shot. We picked up her friend Ruth. She wasn’t a natural redhead, but I had a good feeling the carpet matched the drapes. I was right. Dancing led to drinking. Drinking led to a motel room, which led to even more drinking. After passing around the hashish, we felt a little looser, and that’s where things got a little blurry. And let me tell you, the blurrier things got, the better. I woke up before sunrise, left $30 on the table for the room, and rode out of town. I miss Pauline and Ruth, but I know I have many more places to see on this journey with no end. Until next time, Rebel Randy Rebel Randy is writing this article while motorcycling across North America. Due to the sporadic nature of his writing, there is no set date for his next journal entry to reach publication. For a compendium of his journals dating from June 1975- September 1978 (Volume III), please send a check or money order of $10.00 to The Charlotte Barb, P.O. Box 159, Charoltte NC, 28201.

Rebel Randy’s Road Diaries

Entry Date: October 20, 1979

I took part in an orgy last night.

Hitchhiking can take you places. It can take you to the car of a woman, who’s much to old to be driving in the first place, let alone picking up a stranger. But like me, she was a rebel. Pauline was her name, and her game had no rules.

I could tell by the wheezing that she was a smoker. She asked for a Marlboro, but I passed her some hash. That soothed the nerves.

I asked her, “When was the last time you went out dancing?”

“1955,” she said, “just before my husband died.”

A widow? Jackpot.

You know how they say older women are better in bed, because they’re more experienced? Well, older widows are even better, because they go into it with nothing to lose. If you’ve never had the pleasure, invest in some lube, and give it a shot.

We picked up her friend Ruth. She wasn’t a natural redhead, but I had a good feeling the carpet matched the drapes. I was right.

Dancing led to drinking. Drinking led to a motel room, which led to even more drinking. After passing around the hashish, we felt a little looser, and that’s where things got a little blurry. And let me tell you, the blurrier things got, the better.

I woke up before sunrise, left $30 on the table for the room, and rode out of town. I miss Pauline and Ruth, but I know I have many more places to see on this journey with no end.

Until next time,

Rebel Randy

Rebel Randy is writing this article while motorcycling across North America. Due to the sporadic nature of his writing, there is no set date for his next journal entry to reach publication. For a compendium of his journals dating from June 1975- September 1978 (Volume III), please send a check or money order of $10.00 to The Charlotte Barb, P.O. Box 159, Charoltte NC, 28201.