You could light a twelve story building with a look like that.

You were convinced. You did something right – maybe your last life. You couldn’t believe your luck. You had dreams and she was in them. You didn’t know her name – you didn’t need to.

Okay – she as taller than you – she was a semester older than you – she was popular. She was looking at you – not in your direction – not at the guy behind you – not because of her eyesight – not off into space – you.

Those eyes blew a hole through your solar plexus – your mind was scrambled eggs. You smiled – you started leaking sweat – you were going to blow it. One stupid word – one lame move and you were dead – not falling-down-a-flight-of-stairs dead – roadkill dead. You would never forgive yourself if you ruined this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Once you put your personality in automatic, things calmed down. When you turned your brain off overdrive you were lucid, clever and could make complete sentences and not sound like you sat on a hot stove.

As luck would have it, you had a pair of tickets to see Yes in Long Beach – golden opportunity. You were starting to believe in Karma.

She was a Yes fan. You could see your future. It would be a night to remember.

One problem – you had this car. It was old, it was ugly and it was on its last legs. You rescued it from a junk yard when you got your license and it was your semester long project in auto shop class to get it running and pass a smog test. Even the teacher had doubts.

You needed a borderline hot, but settle for decent, car that could make the trip to Long Beach and back in one piece.

Too young and too broke to rent one – couldn’t ask your parents to borrow theirs – hitching was out of the question – you had to beg your friends.

Fortunately, one of them was grounded for a month and stuck at home. He had a car – a Chevy Impala; Candy Apple Red – a car you could get in trouble with.

So in exchange for all your Grateful Dead and Uriah Heep albums, and the promise of a full tank of gas and one Kidney if and when he ever needed it, you could borrow the car for one night. He drove a hard bargain but love was bigger than vinyl.

Feeling like you grew five inches and otherwise larger-than-life, you pulled into her driveway and made your grand entrance.

You knew she was going to be hit-on by every guy who came within twenty feet of her at the concert. It didn’t help that she was dressed to induce comas and knew for a fact she turned heads. Still . . .you were the lucky one.

On the way to the concert and sitting nerve wreckingly close, she reached into her bag and pulled out a Sucrets tin and produced a joint which she lit and shared with you.

By the time you reached the Long Beach Arena you were nicely bombed and wrapped around each other like a tourniquet.

This night was going places, you could feel it in your bloodstream. Love was everywhere and you were up to your eyeballs in it.

The concert was over after what felt like two minutes and the arena was emptying. Outside it started to rain, a little at first but it was steady. Eventually the drops turned into baseballs and lakes were forming.

You got to the car, climbed in and went promptly crazy.

Steamed-up windows, cars leaving, horns blaring, people running to get out of the rain and you two somewhere on another planet, not the one where there was a parking lot and wet people racing past the car. The one where there were tossed clothes, pressed flesh, panting breath and ecstatic moaning.

After an hour of serious backseat calisthenics, the parking lot emptied and the clock was wandering in the direction of two in the morning.

As much as you didn’t want it to end, you had to be home. Even though it wasn’t a school night, you both had parents and they both could make your lives miserable.

You got dressed – reluctantly moved to the front seat and got ready for the trek home.

It was then, when you put the key in the ignition and turned, that you found out the car was dead.

Nothing – no clicks, no warning signs, no parking lot attendants. Stone, cold dead.

In the middle of nowhere – you had no idea how huge the parking lot was when you realized you were the only ones left in it.

The night turned south quickly. Love evaporated – racing pulse was replaced by a stomach twisted in knots. She looked at you like you were mildew. This night did not go off as planned.

It wasn’t until dawn that a tow truck appeared, after you finally located a phone booth a half mile away from your car. She was asleep in the backseat and the driver grimaced, telling you his problems with women.

Battery charged – fifty bucks. He took pity on you and accepted a check – he knew what you were in for.

You limped back home. She was asleep in the back, or at least pretending she was – you were trying to get a story together. The sun was coming up, glaring at everything in sight.

The radio was on – you forgot about the concert. You knew you were never going to see her again and she was never going to have anything nice to say about you. Paradise; a whole day’s worth.

And you didn’t have sunglasses.

And to make your morning complete – an hour’s worth of Hudson & Landry from KGBS, March 15, 1974.