I'll Never Find Love Again

Thirty-nine years ago today, my little yellow VW bug and I found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a traffic jam during rush hour in New York City. Days earlier we had left Indy in a rush so I could catch a plane to Luxembourg. With one backpack and $300 in my pocket (the airplane ticket and Eurail pass cost $300.00) I was eager to run away from the mess I had made of my life, and oh, what a mess it was. Here's the first story in what was to be a month-long journey to Europe and back.

Saturday,  March 27, 1976, New York City

I arrived in New York City yesterday evening during rush hour. I left Indy Thursday because it was agony waiting for a phone call that never came. I spent $10.88 on a motel in Youngstown, Ohio, on my trip east, and the next morning I was starving so I went to the motel's restaurant. When I walked in, the manager must have noticed my red eyes and tear-streaked face because he kept trying to cheer me up. I knew he meant well, but his attention annoyed me. I just wanted to be left alone. I ordered breakfast and then picked at it because I was suddenly sick to my stomach. The bill came to $1.47. As I was about to leave, the manager seemed alarmed at my sadness, so he took my bill and said, "No charge." He walked me to the door, all the while giving me empty words of encouragement. Or at least they were empty to me because what he could not know was that no words can ease this pain I feel. He's gone. The love of my life is gone, and I'll never find love again.

New York City
March 27, 1976