By the laws of nature I should not be writing this. By the laws of nature I should not even be here. By the laws of nature I should probably be dead. It happened in West Africa about 50 years ago. I had just walked 50 feet to take a nocturnal pee after a face-to-face warning by locals that it was not advisable to make camp here. Best leave. By some twist of fate, and without knowing, I somehow during that pee had just avoided what might have been my demise. At Sam Ash Music I found a used, blonde neck, Fender Stratocaster. It was a few years old and the popular sunburst finish had a few dings, rubs and scratches. Boy, was I one happy 19-year-old as I rode the train back to Hartford. It was a '57 Strat and I learned many years later that had I kept the guitar it might be worth upwards of U$50,000! I'm displaying it on the back cover of this book. My lead guitar's Strat was candy-apple red (he painted it to match his souped up Studebaker with the Corvette engine) and I decided to refinish my Strat along the same lines. However, when I removed the old sunburst finish and saw how aesthetic the natural wood finish looked I decided to just put a couple of coats of clear varnish on it and leave it as it was. All my neighbors stopped their lawn chores and watched as this slim black fellow in a 3-piece suit got out of the '59 gold Caddy and walked over to my dad. "I'm looking for Don," he said. "The boys in the band are in the house." On Wednesday night, Feb. 21, 1968, Ed, Ira and I went to a new club that opened on Arch St. in Philly called The Electric Factory. We heard that there was a new rock band from England appearing and we arrived early and paid $4.50 and got seats in the front row. The name of the band: The Jimi Hendrix Experience. In late June that summer there was a special event that occurred in Hartford. The Rolling Stones appeared in concert at Dillon Field near the Colt Arms Company. All the guys were dressed in bright white. Brian Jones was still with them and the venue only held about 8,000 spectators. Despite the Stones' popularity I remember the crowd was maybe half that number. The first car I ever owned was a 1964 Corvette Sting Ray coupe, small block engine, with a 4-speed transmission. The color was Daytona Blue with a black interior. It was low mileage and it was love at first site. I paid cash. I bought a Nikon Photomic FTN body and a couple of lenses. It didn't take long before I became hooked on photography and buying bodies and lenses. I joined the base photo club and developed my own black and white film. Nervously, I sat in the base commander's outer office. I saluted when asked to come in. I stood in front of the seated commander: "Capt. Klein: do you know that you have been repeatedly fraternizing with enlisted men on weekends?" It took me a few seconds to fully digest what he said. Fraternizing with enlisted men. It was a strange way of putting that I played music in a band with NCO's, but yes, I guess I was. "Furthermore, do you realize that by playing in that band in the nearby towns of Lompoc and Santa Maria you are taking jobs away from civilians?"