In the summer of 1970, at the age of 16, I took a trip alone to visit my Grandparents in Eureka, Kansas. The purpose of the trip was to get my driver’s license, which I’d have to wait until August if I stayed in New Jersey. I had never taken a flight before. I remember Dad dropping me off at the front of Newark International Airport and driving off because he had a meeting to go to. He told me to just go to the ticket counter and they’d help me. So I went to the TWA ticket counter and gave them my student standby ticket. This ticket was a half-price ticket, but you were on standby meaning, based on when you arrived at the ticket counter, you would only be able to get seat a based on the availability of seats at the time of boarding. Military standby was another kind of ticket that had a higher priority than students. So I got on board and found my seat, next to another boy about my age travelling alone as well. We hit it off okay and found out we’d both be together as far as Kansas City. At St. Louis, the first leg of our journey, all student standbys were asked to come to the front of the plane, where we were escorted off and we saw the plane leave without us. The gate person told us the next flight to Kansas City would be leaving very soon at another gate so we both ran down the concourse and when we got to the gate we dropped our tickets at the desk to get in queue. One by one, they named all the standbys, military first, then students. They said my new friend’s name but not mine. Disappointed, I asked for my ticket and was surprised that they gave my ticket to him! They allowed me to get on the flight (this was before TSA), and when I found him, he discovered he didn’t have his ticket. I didn’t know where to sit, so I sat in first class. My final destination was Wichita, so when they asked standbys to come to the front of the aircraft at Kansas City, I didn’t budge.
Getting my license in Kansas wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I failed the first time, and Grandmother had to drive me to Eldorado to take it a second time to finally pass it. Because I took behind the wheel training, I didn’t have to take a behind the wheel test. To their credit, trust and patience, my Grandparents allowed me to drive for the first time the next day on the way to the Ozarks in Missouri. It was in their 1966 Mercury Monterey. What a boat! The very first day I was driving I was going 85 miles per hour south on Route 99. In 1970 there was no speed limit there, only a speed minimum of 40 miles per hour. That stretch of road was interesting. Of course being Kansas, it was flat as a pancake, but every ten miles or so the road would rise to go over an irrigation ditch and then roll down. I remembered seeing on the local news that there was a fatality a month on that road as drivers would pass on the hill only to hit a car or truck coming up the other side. Since there was very little traffic on it, they probably figured, “what the hell.” So every time I’m going up and down these hills, my heart is racing. I couldn’t get off that road fast enough, and so I increased my speed to 90. Almost at the end of Route 99, I looked at my rearview mirror and saw a little red dot getting larger. And then I saw the hill coming up. The car behind was closing in fast as I saw the warning signs: DO NOT PASS, NO PASSING ZONE! The red XKE Jaguar passed me while I was going up the hill like I was standing still. He had to be going 140 MPH. I was sweating like pig. My Grandfather was calmly chewing gum and my Grandmother was asleep in the back. I said out loud, “Jesus Christ!” They could not understand was I was so nervous about. “Oh Marc, my lands. There is nobody on the road. We’ll be fine.” I noted on the next hill there was a semi-tractor trailer coming up the other side. Once there in the Ozarks, we had a good time. I went horseback riding and we went fishing. For some reason everybody caught a fish but me. There’s a siren that goes off and hundreds of fishermen throw their lines in the water. My Grandparents caught their quota within 30 minutes. I’d still be standing there without a bite. And Granddad baited my hook.

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