Road Tripping With Garcia: part 1. Lou and Molly , and the Grateful Dead. Lou and Molly meet at the show. by Stagger_Lee44. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.  Readers, this a fictional road story set in the 1980’s, before cell phones and the internet as we know it today. In the early Spring of 1987, I launched my adventure on the road. I was twenty-four and recently laid off from my now out of business former employer. I’d spent the last six months preparing to hit the road to follow my favorite jam band and its hippie caravan across North America. I’d planned to stay out on the road as long as I had fun and if the car and money held out. For money, I’d spent the time preparing since rumors of my former employers’ hostile takeover plot by a Michael Milken junk bond scheme. I’d worked all the hours I could to save. I’d sold my companies stock at a pre-sale rumor high before it dropped like a stone. In the end I was able to hit the road with almost $30,000 in the bank. For wheels I’d purchased a 1972 Ford Galaxie 500 station wagon, with less than 60,000 miles on her. She was white with a blue interior and had no rust or damage. Classic “little old lady car”. I’d paid $1000.00 for her and had my buddy’s shop put another $1500.00 into her for new tires, carburetor rebuild, gaskets, transmission service, suspension upgrade, along with an icy AC and new fans to get heat and cooling all around the large car. I arrived in Connecticut and stayed in a crazy hotel with a giant Teepee in front an hour from the camp site. Woke up early the next day after some good bed rest and went to the campground I’d made reservations at and set up my tent and bed for after the show. On my twenty-five-mile ride to the show I’d stopped for beer, hot dogs, and anything else I’d need for the day. I’d found a spot to set up my grill and stuff in a lot next to people I’d been across the aisle from at the last show in Virginia. The day was sunny but there was a cool breeze, so you needed your jacket. The heat from the grill was welcome. Although alone, I’d left my tailgate open and table with both chairs set up. After about half an hour the guy I’d traded the ticket for weed with in Virginia came strolling by. He saw the white wagon and plopped down in the empty chair. Just as I’m telling a couple, who’d bought six over the last forty-five minutes, that I’m out, a Girl walked up and asked if I had any water for sale. I said hi and told her I’d just give her some and asked if she’d like to sit in the shade for a minute while I’d get her a cup and brought back the water jug to the table for both of us. I handed her a new plastic cup as she sat down at my little table. “Hi, I’m Lou and I asked, how are you doing on this sunny day?” She took a healthy swig from the cup, saying “Thank you” as I refilled it for her. “Hi, I’m Molly and I needed that. 8 million beers and almost no water anywhere! It has not been a good day!” “I’d come to the show with my soon to be ex roommate she’d said. Her and her boyfriend were almost blackout drunk in two hours and she’d left when he’d puked on the hood of their car and poured all of our water on it trying to clean it off while having another beer and a shot”. “How much for the water?” she asked. “No one should charge for water. Would you like a hot dog or if you want there are some chips or cookies in the back of the wagon?” Molly took a lightly burned hot dog from my little, gas camping grill and visibly relaxed silently eating her hot dog for moment. She was around my age, about five foot, seven inches tall and about 150 to 160 pounds, I’d guess. It was tough to tell with her medium length jacket covering a fuzzy beige sweater. She had around a full size 36C chest, and she filled out her Levi’s nicely to my eye. Her medium brown hair had a light wave to it and fell about half a foot past her shoulders and was almost a match for her brown eyes. Molly then asked, “If she didn’t go into the show could she hang out a