The Mods and Rockers

Growing up in the mid-to-late sixties in England was awesome.

The life off-base was totally different, and a lot less safe for American teenagers. On base, there was zero crime. But if you ventured out, you might find yourself right in the middle of something between the two dominant groups of the time.

The Mods and the Rockers.

I suppose if we are talking equivalencies, think of the Rockers as a bunch of biker wannabes and think of the Mods as pissed off yuppies with suits and thin ties, and chains.

I actually saw a brawl break out between the two factions in the city of Oxford in one of the immaculate parks that adorn the city.

When I say I saw a brawl break out, as well as I could see as I was hauling my young ass out of there at warp speed.

These were the big boys, and their fights were always bloody and sometimes deadly.

If you ever saw two or three Mods walking, and then, if you saw a couple Rockers in their black leather outfits, you knew.

Run.

You don’t want none.

I was a bit torn.

I liked the coolness of the bikers, but I just couldn’t ever smoke a cigarette; something I can say to this day I have not done. But the Rocker babes all looked smokin’ hot like Elvira before she was even born. And they all smoked.

The birds that hung around with the Mods were more likely to be wearing the latest chic fashions and matching accessories; their hair was smartly done and well-parted.

Even then, I liked the blonde ones the best.

Like some people like the cherry SweetTarts the best.

I guess what swayed me over to the Mods was they listened to way cooler music and they got stoned. They also seemed to have more money than their Rocker counterparts. It was my Mod buddy Colin that taught me how to play the song Sitting on the Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding.

Very cool.

Pot was very commonplace with my young British friends. My group was a bit young for the hard things like pharmaceuticals or anything requiring a syringe, again, something I can say to this day I have not done.

There weren’t really any American equivalents; any one of our girl biker gangs could probably decimate the entire British Rocker movement.

And our Yuppies cared exclusively about upward mobility and money and more-more-more, setting the stage for even more avarice in the decade of the eighties.

And you didn’t know that God has a sense of humor?

He puts me, the most irresponsible raging alcoholic and consumer of drugs Known to Man, in Las Vegas.

Some of the crazy things I did in Sin City are captured in my book EMOTIONS: Not your Mama’s ABC’s!

I’m getting off easy this Thanksgiving, as we have been invited to Karen’s sisters’ house.

I just have to bring the pies.

And I’m not even making them myself.

Stay well.