Racing Pat Travers at Malibu Grand Prix

[Barry]

When I was seventeen years old I lived in Village Park Estates with my parents, where a three bedroom apartment with washer/dryer hook-ups went for $375.00 a month. My parents charged me $150.00 a month to live there, which I had agreed to conditional on their letting me drop out of high-school in my sophomore year at fifteen. I had worked for a roofer, Dave Woodruff, who had previously lived in the apartment next door. Now I worked at McDonalds. Let me tell you, three hours on the fryer at McDonalds made me way more tired than eleven hours working the tar pot ever did. My favorite thing about the roofing job was when I would hear Dave hit his finger with a hammer. Usually I was up on the roof with him and the other guy when this happened, us not doing a hot tar job that day. “Barry,” I would hear him call out. “Go down to my truck and roll two joints.” It was my most favorite of all tasks.
After Dave moved out, Dave and Crystal moved in. Dave Valdrow, and his wife, Crystal.
I immediately fell in love with Crystal.
They were both twenty-four. They had been married since high-school. Crystal had gotten pregnant at seventeen, and they had first lived together in the basement of her parents’ house.
Dave had gone to Rex Putnam High School. He graduated in 1973 or ‘74. Rex Putnam High School is where Hacky Sack was invented. Dave was the fourth of the three friends who invented the game.
Even though I secretly pined for his wife, which I’ve no doubt he knew, Dave and I became fast friends. He was the one who gave me the nickname Bareskin, though I always thought of it as Bearskin, like an Indian name, like bearskin rug. He told me later that, no, it was because that summer he never saw me with a shirt on.
I eventually made love with Crystal. After she and Dave separated, I used to babysit their two kids when she went out at night. One night she came home alone. She was drunk. I’d like to think I didn’t take advantage of her. She knew full well how I felt. We’d talked about it at length. But she couldn’t get past the age thing. On this night she did. I’ll never forget my first sight of her nakedness. She was so beautiful. And I’ll never forget the feeling of the first two fingers of my left hand going into her, the sight of it, the way she writhed in ecstasy, how good it all felt. And I’ll never forget the way she shoved me off her when it was done, the instant shame and regret she felt, while I was reveling in the most glorious fulfillment I’d ever felt. Because I hadn’t come too quick. I had held off long enough. And she had come. She came. It was the first time I ever made a woman come. And all she felt was ashamed.
Before that, though, when she and Dave were still together, Dave won a radio contest for a chance to race Pat Travers at Malibu Grand Prix. I think it was 101 KUFO. Dave and Crystal took me to the event. He was a big man. Not muscle-bound, but muscular. Big. He was huge. He was an athlete all the way. He psyched up for whatever it was he was about to do.
He was also a drug dealer. He dealt weed, coke and speed. He was the first one ever to turn me on to cocaine. He drove around in this cool little van and carried a small suitcase that would be filled with throw-pillow sized bags of weed. Really good Columbian weed. It was sticky and gold. When you rolled a joint of it, little particles would be stuck all over your fingers when you were done. And the suitcase carried coke, quarter pounds of coke. And jars of speed. Prescription jars of a thousand tabs. That was when I first found out what crosstops were really for. I read the jar one day in Dave’s van. It’s for respiratory ailments. And you’re not supposed to take more than one a day. We used to take at least five to get off. Ten was better.
So at Malibu Grand Prix that day, Dave was getting psyched up. He was on the other side of the fence from me and Crystal, with all the other competitors, and he was off in his own world, clearly. “He’s getting psyched up,” Crystal said, next to my head. We could see his lips moving. He was pacing in a small circle. I can still see him today, twenty-nine years later.
There was a folding table set up where they were selling copies of Pat Travers’ latest album, Crash and Burn, for five bucks. Five bucks was exactly all I had on me. All I had to my name, in fact, at the time. So I went over and bought one. Pat and the other band members were wandering around the place. It was hot that day. I stood by the fence and tried to get Dave’s attention. He came over. “Want me to get that signed for you?” he asked. He took it over to Pat, and I heard a few of his words as he spoke to him, asking him to sign it for his friend and looking my way. Pat looked, scowled, and signed the back of the album. He walked over and handed it to me himself. As he walked away I swear I heard him mutter under his breath, “Whole damn town gonna drive me insane.”
Dave won the race that day. He beat Pat Travers at Malibu Grand Prix. His was the best time. He won. And he took me with him. I’ve still got the album, and the lapel pin that reads “Race Pat Travers at Malibu Grand Prix," with the date and the radio station call letters.
I’ll never forget Dave Valdrow, or his wife Crystal. She came into the restaurant I worked at when I was nineteen or twenty. She looked good. It was all still there. Then, later, when I worked at a rental place about 1998 or ’99, almost twenty years after all the above took place, she came in with her then husband, Ron, who had been one of Dave’s partners back in the drug dealing days, before the bust happened, and a longtime, since high school, friend. She was very skinny, practically anorexic, but she still looked good. It was all still there then, too. I watched her walk back to the car with Ron, and I thought to myself, “I made love with her.” And that was enough.
Dave, I heard from his dad, who also came into the rental place one day, had fallen by the wayside. His life was a mess. He was homeless, lived on the streets, addicted to drugs. Life had not been good to him. As it had appeared not to have been good to Crystal. I was sure her skinniness was due to meth use, but who am I to judge? She still looked good to me. I still wanted her. I would have made love with her again in a second, had she merely stated a desire to do so. And I would have told my wife afterward, because our relationship was an open one in those days.
I still sometimes think about the old times and wonder, “What happened?” Doesn’t everyone?
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Peace,
Barry

[Nazz]

Some heady times nicely recaptured. Tough to experience old friends who have fallen on hard times. Really tough, sometimes.

[mudshark]

man... what a ride.
honesty to the bone, makes an artist, and a great story.
and your skills. beautyfull,Barry!

[mtmynd]

how those of us who have survived our younger days must ask ourselves when hearing stories such as this....

well done, Barry.

[Barry]

Thanks for the comments, people-love.
I was afraid it was a bit to graphic, you know, "real," for some people.
Good to see it wasn't like that for you three.

Peace,
Barry

[ryana VALDROW]

How do you see this as creativity writen? How is ok to tell a "story" that you depicted as yours when it's seems you think you know how life has gone for someone else. Check the last name Barry. And as for your comment of telling people thank you for how you wrote your story, it is too graphic Barry. How would it make you feel if someone writes about you and tells your lie? Her children, her grandchildren can find your "story" fyi she was thin but NEVER did what you so indicated publicly, as for dad he isn't homeless, sure he did dumb things. You should never give your opinion on what you may think when giving so many names, shame on you and your soul sir. LOVE HER FAMILY THE VALDROWS.

[saw]

some pain can't be disappeared....even 6 years later....I don't like using people's real first and last names for a tell-all piece...it's unnecessary and can often be unkind....Sorry for the anguish this piece gave you.....I hope it was somewhat cathartic to lay it all out ryana...
and I hope you will continue to use written/printed words to aid in the healing....peace

[Doreen Peri]

some pain can't be disappeared....even 6 years later....I don't like using people's real first and last names for a tell-all piece...it's unnecessary and can often be unkind....Sorry for the anguish this piece gave you.....I hope it was somewhat cathartic to lay it all out ryana...
and I hope you will continue to use written/printed words to aid in the healing....peace

Yes. After I read the reply by Ryana, I was thinking about making a rule for the forums, stating that no real names can be used in "stories" but then I realized, there would be no way to enforce this rule.

My heart broke reading Ryana's reply, despite the fact that honestly, I didn't even read Barry's story. Barry hasn't been posting here for a long time and I don't know if he's coming back but I hope he at least stops by to read how this story he posted in public can affect those whose names he's mentioning. It isn't all right to use real names like that and express a negative viewpoint of real life events. Just saying.

I remember one time my former partner (RIP) posted some negative things about me using my real name and I was very upset! I actually threatened to sue him if he didn't change my name to a fictitious name in his blog posts. I don't know if he ever changed it so DIRT about me based on his slanted opinions may be out there on the internet in public view forever, as far as I know. Sigh.

The internet can be a dangerous place.

As owner of this site, this message is to Ryana ....
I'm sorry, Ryana, that one of our site members posted negative things about your family and if there is any way I can help, please let me know. I'd be happy to delete this post. As a matter of fact, even if I don't hear back from you, I may go ahead and just delete the entire thread so it's no longer searchable. Peace and Love to you and your family!

PS ... I don't even want to read Barry's story. So, I'm not going to read it.

[mnaz]

I'm actually a bit shocked, or at least quite surprised that someone would use real name(s) in a story shared publicly in any sort of form. Isn't this pretty much a universally-accepted and understood line not to be crossed? I've changed the names of all people I've interacted with in my writing, and, for the accounts I've published or intend to publish in book form, in some cases I've let the people involved read what I've written prior to publishing to get their input. Strange.

[Doreen Peri]

I'm actually a bit shocked, or at least quite surprised that someone would use real name(s) in a story shared publicly in any sort of form. Isn't this pretty much a universally-accepted and understood line not to be crossed?

Yeah, me too. Never expected to see it. Didn't know people would do that... (until it happened to me).

[WIREMAN]

if it bothers someone so deeply after all this time, it should be deleted.....