friends

During my teen years I did not have many friends. My family moved frequently and I didn't seem to stay at any one school long enough to make real friends. I was attending my second high school, and like the first, was relegated to the social outcast group. The dynamics of high school friendships are hard enough for those who have grown up together, but for those who come from outside that social structure, it's the kiss of death. It was at this time that I met Randy Troth. I actually met Randy through my mother, who as an adult had decided to take some night classes. We were living in Azusa California at the time and I was 17 years old; it was 1975. Randy was about a year older than me and was taking night classes because he had dropped out of high school and was taking this route to finish his degree. He met my mother there and she introduced him to me. We hit it off right away. For one thing, Randy had a car. It was a 1965 Chevy Nova that had seen better days, but it was a car. More important than that, Randy was a true friend. One of the best friends I have ever had. When summer came, we spent just about every day together, sometimes it was the beach, other times we would go into the mountains or out to the desert. Most of the time we just hung out at his house or mine, Randy lived only a couple of miles from me. After a few weeks Randy invited me to go to South Pasadena with him to visit some friends from his youth. I was introduced to Robert and Dennis (Bob and Denny) Bassler, brothers, and their cousin, Patrick (Pat) Swanson. That summer may be the best summer of my life. The five of us did just about everything together. Bob was a year older than me, Denny a year younger and Pat two years younger. Bob had a 1965 forest green Mustang that we punished that summer. We were also pretty hard on that Chevy Nova. Later I will have stories about some of the things we did that summer. The five of us were an interesting group; none of us had girlfriends, we all liked the same activities and food, none of us smoked or did drugs, and we all liked spending time together; two in one car and three in the other. Things were looking up for me, I had real friends, and Southern California was a veritable playground for five teenage guys. At the end of that summer my family moved to Central Illinois. I would be starting my senior year at my third high school.