Micky Dolenz and Midnight Rides

Fresh material from a former Writing Mama, Cynthia Rovero.

My tumultuous years as a teenager attending Tamalpais High School in Mill Valley were full of secret experiences too shameful to share with family members. This includes remaining as tight lipped as my conscience allows with my children too. I sometimes find myself hinting at my past with tip-of-the-iceberg secret stories from that shady time of my life.

One such episode began like this: at the age of 14, while walking home from high school, a beautiful African American lady, about five years older than me, pulled up beside me in a blue mustang to offer me a ride. I hopped in and embarked on some wild adventures with Chantrelle, my randomly found new friend.

On our first day as friends, we drove to Sausalito where she instructed me in the finer points of panhandling by saying “I need some cash; my car just ran out of gas.” We ended up receiving a sizable amount of cash, which for me at that time was close to $20. After only an hour of begging, she drove me home to my mom’s house in Mill Valley.
Our adventure did not stop there. Chantrelle took me to the East Bay where she introduced me to one of her Berkeley college friends.

My goodness, she was very adept at relations with the opposite sex.

Following some trysts together there, she suggested we take a midnight flight to Los Angeles where we would see fancy cars and have fun times. Not being very interested in school, that sounded like a fabulous idea to me. School work was a terrible struggle for me and my mother was caught up in life with her longtime artist live-in boyfriend.

Once we landed in Los Angeles, a friend of hers picked us up. We spent the night at his hippie pad, conveniently close to the Sunset Strip. After that we hitched a ride to a Laurel Canyon super market where she assured me “movie stars” often shopped. No movie stars showed up, so we took a quick walk up a street nearby and rang Micky Dolenz’s doorbell. Sure enough he came down to see who the heck was bothering him. He asked us “what’s up?” but I was so embarrassed and giddy that I ran off laughing. I had a serious crush on him growing up, watching the TV show “The Monkees” and it was just too much for me to take in at that time.

From then on, Chantrelle and I lived like vagabonds in Hollywood for what seemed like an eternity. In reality it was a little over a month. After our stint there, she came to stay with me at my mother’s house. While she stayed with us, she and I would head over to Shattuck Avenue in Berkeley and dance at various concerts.

As much as I loved the seedy, exciting times we shared together, they were altogether too racy and scandalous for a minor. That is a vital reason why our friendship faded and I chose to return to school; picking up the pieces of a fragmented school experience.

I often wonder what became of my random friend, whom I knew only by her first name Chantrelle. It seems to me that is the way many friendships in the “free love” 60s ended.

What I wouldn’t give to know where some of these casual friends ended up.

Are they happy? Do they have family that loves them? I am very thankful that I can say I have all the benefits of family love, so I wish that they too are enjoying the same.