To make a long story short, Ricer called in a patrol buggy, which is really just a jeep with big gnarly tires; and I was hauled back home without being able to retrieve my clothes. I got a postcard from Gary about a week after being in Lewiston. He said Ricer tried to give him some trouble over the whole thing, but Gary, who’s retired Navy, has friends all over Southern California so he took great pleasure in telling Ricer…
“Pucker up your sorry ass lips, and kiss my entire hairy ass.”
I had been dropped on my doorstep wearing a big blue towel and smelling like sea water. John had answered the door because Mom was out driving around looking for me. I didn’t bother to stick around; I took off the towel, handed it to the cop and walked past John without saying a single word.