Crimson & Clover

Billy & The Big Bopper

The rest of the summer went by like a magical dream. Billy and I became closer than ever. I didn't just think of him as Betty's son anymore. I was getting comfortably used to the fact that I would be his father.

The three of us, Betty, Billy and I  spent many blistering days at the beach, tossing around the football and hunting for minnows. I was unbelievably excited to start my new and improved life. After Billy and I had our little talk at the ballgame I even contemplated asking Betty's father if we could move up the wedding date. Billy was right; the summer of 69 was still along way from here. The thought of owning a house and coming home to Betty every night warmed my heart. I would be living a life that Pa could only dream of. I'm sure he would have been proud to see me now. Ma, on the other hand, will probably resent the fact that I'll be living it up while her dear Brad is still at war, but she'll come around to the idea once she sees the size of the checks I'll be sending her.

In the fall I told Big Al about my new position with the bank. He was thrilled for me although the first thing he asked was is if my new job could somehow help him secure larger loans. I told him I could do that, even though I had no idea if it was true. It felt nice to be a big shot.

Big Al ended up giving Tom both managerial positions. That was the right thing to do. Tom could more than handle it. He wasn't just a numbers guy. When given the chance Tom had a pleasing way that made people feel very safe to do business with him.

When I brought the Ford Thunderbird back to Big Al he promptly gave it to Tom. I was kinda starting to feel very bad for Tom. He seemed destined to end up with my leftovers, but he didn't act as if he cared. He loved that car as much as I ever had except he took far better care of it.

Just before Thanksgiving, Betty's grandfather took me his buddy's Cadillac dealership where he demanded I pick out a new car.

"We can't start you off with a Roll's," he told me. "You'll have nothing to look forward to after that."

I could have spent days there admiring and test driving every car on the lot but I didn't want to appear too eager or too greedy so instead I quickly picked out a black 1968 Fleetwood, the cheapest Caddy on the lot. Betty's grandfather went inside to speak to his friend. They spent a good half an hour together but when he finally came back out he was holding the keys to a blue 1969 Deville convertible.

"This beauty just arrived," he told me. "You'll be the only one driving one of these for months."

I had a look of utter disbelief as he placed the keys in my hand. "Don't be shy with me," he said. "You're family now and family gets the best."

"I already have Betty," I replied. "That's more than enough."

"You're smooth son," he replied with a grin. He put his arm around me and told me to take the car for a spin. I did. It was pure heaven right here on earth and best of all; it had an fm stereo. The sound out of that radio was phenomenal.

I excitedly drove the brand new Deville straight to Betty's where I insisted we go for a long romantic drive. She suggested we take Billy orange picking. It wasn't quite what I had in mind, but it was still fun. The orange grove was an hour away in the countryside so I still got to drive my new Cadillac through long, winding roads. Driving the Cadillac felt like driving on air. This was ultra luxury in comparison to my old Thunderbird.

Driving and listening to music gave me my greatest pleasure in life. I wasn't a fast or reckless driver by any stretch of the imagination. It was the feeling of control that came with being able to go anywhere there were paved roads that made me happy. The moving scenery, the hum of the engine blending with the music from the radio created a perfect harmony that allowed my mind to enter into a state of relaxation that seemed to always rejuvenate me. If anything was troubling me, a long drive always seemed to help me find a solution. To this day nothing has changed in that regard. I go for long drives to sort out issues.

After we finished orange picking came the best part. That evening, on the way home, when we went for dinner at a steakhouse along the highway.  Chantilly Lace by The Big Bopper was playing quietly, really quietly, on the radio when suddenly Billy got up, went behind an empty piano by the bar and started to sing along, loud as he pretended to play piano. Betty and I were speechless. I motioned for Billy to come back and sit down but an old lady at the next table moved my arm. "Let the boy sing," she said, "he's wonderful." When the song ended, the restaurant patrons gave him a standing ovation. I was very proud.

I spent as much time as I could with Betty, Billy and her family and was settling in quite nicely to my new comfortable routine when the unexpected twist and turns that come naturally from simply being alive took control of my life.