Today, Ruth and I stopped by the Chey dealer to look at new cars. We're not going to buy one until next Spring, but it's been awhile since we've looked. I had stopped in a couple of days ago and talked to a salesman, and he was the first man I met, walking through the door. We looked at a couple of cars in the showroom, but we wanted to look at a four door sedan, and we had to walk out to the back lot. As we were walking along, just shooting the breeze, (how do you shoot the breeze, and what if you miss?) we ended up talking about music. No duh. With me, it doesn't take long to get around to that. As it turns out, the salesman lived in Greenwich Village on Charles Street in 1962 and '63. I lived on the lower West side and spent half my waking hours in the Village from 1960-64. (Oh yeah, the conversation started because I was wearing a Le Figaro t-shirt from the Greenwich Village coffee house. He used to hang out there. So did I. Then, he started talking about Dave Van Ronk and the Gaslight Cafe. I told him that I took lessons from Dave, and used to sing at the Hootenanny's during the time he was living in the Village. (I even opened for the Highwaymen one week.)
He said his real love was jazz and blues, and I said, "so is mine." Which led me to talking about the CD I just put together as my soundtrack to the Mike Hammer TV series, and he remembered it wel, and loved the music. I told him that if his name was spelled just a little differently, he could have been at Woodstock. His last name is Jasgur, not Yasgur. He said that he was at Woodstock. I told him, "so was I." I thought, this is getting too weird, so I asked him, "Your wife's name isn't Ruth, by chance?" And it wasn't. I was starting to get worried.

You never know who you're going to run into at a Chevy dealer's.

Jerry