One day in the mid sixties, I was standing in the middle of the desert with my thumb out on Route 66, heading West.

A car pulled over. The driver was a buff good looking guy, two young hot women were onboard, and I slid into the back seat next to one. I was immediately offered a cocktail and the party was on.

Their story was, it all started in New York. The girls were school teachers, and they had time off, a good car, wanted to travel, but neither liked to drive. So they hooked up with this heroin dealer who needed to get to California, and the road trip was on.

We checked into a motel somewhere in Southern CA. and the guy went off with the car to score his dope. I remember that night was the first, and last time I ever did that drug, and then it was just sniffing it.

The guy split the next morning and the girls turned to me and asked if I'd like to drive them through Mexico, all expenses covered, with more female friendship than I could probably handle.

As I look back on that pivotal moment, I wonder where I would be now if I had said yes?