On my birthday, November 8, 1977, I was living in Malibu, California. I lived above the beach on a beautifully remote part of that spectacular area, in a classic beach house, above Neil Young’s home. I used to see him in his 2nd story open large window playing and composing his music. That year, as I strolled on the beach, I could hear him singing the songs from his album “Songs for Judy”. In the evening darkness, I decided to go to the corner tavern and celebrate at the Trancas Inn, a bar all by itself in the quiet area.
I sat alone at the large bar, just me and the bartender. It was more than quiet. I told him I was celebrating my birthday. He bought me a drink and said Bonnie Raitt was having her birthday party in the adjoining mini hall; would I like to join in, if he asked her. I said of course, of course.
She came out to the bar area, introduced herself and welcomed me into her celebration where Mick Fleetwood, Bruce Springsteen, Robby from the Band, Gary Busey and a number ofnational and local stars and talents, including Keith Moon, from The Who, they all played the instruments set up on the stage, one at a time and together. They jammed, got high, partied hard. It was mind-blowing. A few hours later, I left into the darkness, and at the stop sign outside, a gorgeous Rolls Royce was sitting / running under the only streetlamp for miles. There was Keith Moon, sleeping at the wheel, foot on the brake, slowly creeping forward into the PCH. I knocked on the window. He jolted himself awake and said, “Keith Moon here”. I asked if he was OK and he responded, after he looked into the rearview mirror, “I love your auto.”
I had a 1974 Chevy Malibu with one of the first moonroofs Chevy made. Sparkling Green, cloth top, cherry. He exited the Rolls and said, “I’ll trade you for a week”. I opted out of that and followed him to his home, about 6 houses down from where I was staying, and we became buddies. A few months later I attended a concert of “The Who” locally and totally admired his incredible relentless drumming and percussion abilities.
I drew this expression to commemorate the best birthday ever and my grateful time meeting some of the great talents of our generation. I never saw him again as he died in September 1978, just 10 months later. Onward.