Chapter 1: Virgin in Paradise, Arrived

[It’s time to re write this story, all true except most of the sex, but what would a story be without the sex?]

1965

Going to Hawaii was the dream possessed, almost obsessed commonly among people aspiring to vacation in Paradise, especially since Hawaii’s statehood enacted in 1959. Arthur Godfrey charged imaginations with his “live” radio shows from Waikiki beach. And with the creation of commercial passenger jet flight, the Boeing 707, Hawaii seemed a dream within reach.

Why a territory would feel any different than a state upon landing gear touch-down I never bothered to question but people talked of nothing but the opportunity to go to “The Islands”, now a state. And now I was going, accepted in a private college “on probation”.

I donned my lime green suit, white shirt, skinny black tie to board the flight to Honolulu. The suit I’d recently purchased for my parent’s 25th wedding anniversary party. Flying was still considered by most somewhat a formal affair. The ugly color suit payed off after having spent $35.00 of my own money to purchase it. Now it would get me to Hawaii in style so I could throw it away to forsake any garb other than paradise appropriate.

I had packed all my belongings possible as I was moving lock, stock and barrel to another far away place on Planet Earth and in fact not considering ever coming back to the dreary maritime climate molding my youthful soul moss green with webbed feet. I so preferred sunshine by osmosis if for no other reason.

Arrival at the Honolulu airport was amazing. It was hot, the air filled with fragrance and a kind of warmth that penetrated. I have a small photo taken by my sister, my sponsor, showing my lime green suit jacket adorning a goofy kid with glasses who looked totally out of place. One more photo shows the same guy embarrassed with a lei around his neck I’m sure wanting to get away from the crowd and out of that suit. This was the beginning of Hawaii for me.

I would be living with my sister and brother in law for a little while to get myself established. I would pay them rent until I could get set up for my first ever in life living alone arrangements.

Originally I was set to fly away from the gloomy December maritime cold wet nearly a year before but was involved in a motor bike vs. car accident that should have taken my life. Luckily I was just left with a broken dislocated hip and lower leg shattering. I would be recovering with a full body cast the rest of the winter, then limping into late summer before finally getting on board that plane. I had earned that flight with suffering. I was just that much happier to go.

My sister and family lived in a rented house that sat on the side of Alewa Heights. It was a hogs back outcropping along the steep mountains that split the island, the windward side, from Honolulu proper. it was accessed by a switch back circuit road resembling a European race rally course immersed in a jungle. The house overlooked Honolulu with a view to die for.

And one of my immediate experiences on the island was a fast motorcycle ride on the back of a Honda 305 motorcycle my brother in law was working on. It was the first time since my wreck. I was petrified as he tried to impress me with a faster trip up and down the Height’s way. I didn’t know at that moment racing motorcycles would eventually become my passion.