JUKE JOINT JIMMY IN MIDLIFE CRISIS

Don’t ask me where we were going, as I can’t remember now, but I know it was the Saturday morning before the Sunday evening J. Geils concert, and I was chauffering a whole carload of kin-folk and-fauna somewhere or other.

Cozy in the confines of our VW Rabbit, we’re carrying not only that nuclear family beloved by sociologists—me, my wife, and our daughter—but also my wife’s sister, and her kid, and her dog, a large, amiable collieshepherd bitch who happens to be named “Love,” because she was whelped or whatever these dog fanciers call it around the time of the Summer of Love, and my sisterin-law was contemplating going quasi-hippie at the time, and one thing led to another.