Laurie Lindeen - Petal Pusher: A Rock and Roll Cinderella Story

M Y left thumb is out, my right hand is folded over on my hip; Im hitchhiking. Dont worry, Im on Marthas Vineyardout here hitchhiking is the preferred mode of public transportation. The island setting enforces a sort of geographical honor system: When youre on a small island you cant be a perv or an ax murderer because youd have to wait in a long line at a ferry to get off the island once youve committed your crime, which leaves plenty of time to get busted, unless, of course you have your own boat. I suppose there are a lot of nooks and crannies in which you could hide once youve chopped up some poor hitchhiker, but what a hassle. Eventually youd have to show up at Cumberland Farms or the A&P for a pack of smokes or a Mountain Dew, and everyone would know it was you because theyve all had an eye on you since you showed up on this island. I spend a lot of time thinking about these types of things.

Its a hot late morning in August of 1984 and my hairdresser friend from Boston, Naomi, is with me and were hitchhiking from Vineyard Haven, where I live, to South Beach, which is two towns over with a right turn out of Edgartown. Because its 1984, Naomi has a long eighties, naturally wavy girl-mullet in ash blonde. She wears a pull-on skirt and a T-shirt over her vintage forties one-piece swimming suit. I have clumpy waves of blonde and brown hair fashioned in a sort of inverse mullet, party in the front, short in back. Im wearing a rayon vintage dress in a blue floral print over my tatty old swimming suit. Were probably both wearing Converse high-tops in shades of pink or baby blue and tiny round John Lennon sunglasses. Slightly hungover, a day at the beach, prone on a towel with the sound of the surf and the smells of salt and suntan lotion, will lull us into all-day naps. I have the day off from my job at an eighteen-stool diner; Naomis my guest for a couple of days. We went to the University of Wisconsin together. She just graduated with a degree in art and went directly to New York to learn how to color hair so she could fund her art habit. Smart girl. I was in college at the same time, sort of studying English; Ive yet to graduate. We werent superclose in college, but shes the closest person to me from that world, so I invited her out. It seems only fair since I regularly invite myself to crash at her apartment in Boston when there are rock shows that I want to attend.

A couple of cars whiz past us. A lot of tourists out here in August; they dont get it, I say, hoping that Naomi wont be discouraged. Tourists dont know that this is how we, the carless, get around the island. Maybe we look too quirky, we are far cries from the usual Vineyard preppy. A royal blue Volvo station wagon pulls onto the grass at the side of the road. Thank God its not a pickup truck full of summer house painters where wed have to sit in the open-air flat bed and smile mutely while they smirked at us in our crazy get-ups. We run to hop in. As the veteran hitchhiker, I sit up front.

The driver is a beautifully tanned woman in her thirties with long wavy brown hair and full lips. Shes superstar thin to our baby fat and beer-belly curves. Wait a minute. Holy shit. Could it be? Yes, it could. Its Miss Carly Weve got no secrets Simon herself. I glance over my left shoulder at Naomi in the backseat; she is grinning and silently giggling into her hand with her shoulders lifted up to her ears.

Thanks for stopping, I offer, deciding to be casual, deciding to make this an everyday occurrence. Were headed to South Beach.

I can take you as far as Edgartown, she says in a voice both smooth and quivery like youd expect. I have an errand in town.

That would be great.

Uncomfortable silence.

More uncomfortable silence.

Do you work on the island? Miss Simon asks in an effort to be engaged and friendly.

I work at Dock Street coffee shop on the Edgartown harbor, I report.

Im a hair colorist in Boston, Naomi offers, adding, I just moved there from New York.

Now that were all used to the arrangement, Im feeling smart-assy and am tempted to ask Carly if she works on the island, but I dont.

More uncomfortable silence.

Where are you from? asks the chanteuse with the famous case of stage fright.

Madison, Wisconsin, I recite.

Princeton, New Jersey, says Naomi. Were all looking straight ahead, afraid to openly take in one another in a gawking fashion. Im painfully aware that everyone I know has more interesting answers to the stock questions normally asked by strangers.

Again silence. Carly fumbles for a radio station, and because were in the middle of nowhere, the center of an island with grassy pastures on both sides, nothing is tuning in, just white noise. She sighs and presses play on her cassette deck. And this is the part I hesitate to tell because I dont want Carly Simons risk of being a nice, normal (yet extraordinary) person to backfire in her face, because Im a fan of her music and her life. Because I feel honored that my friend and I look cool enough to be picked up hitchhiking by a pop star. But when the cassette begins playing, Carly Simons voice comes out of the dashboard speakers. We are listening to the singing voice of the lady in the drivers seat. At this point Im inwardly freaking out. Does she want us to say something like Miss Simon, is this your latest effort? or does she just want to stop the awkward silence? Maybe she assumes that the next thing that is coming is Are you Carly Simon? and she wants to tell us without being asked. Or could she be so vain? Oh no, not her. Or maybe she thinks we havent a clue as to who she is so shell just listen to her demos until she can redeposit us on the roadside where we belong.

Were pulling onto upper Main Street in Edgartown, the quietest, most conservative town on the island. We can get off here, I say. Thanks a lot, we both recite while gently closing her car doors before she pulls out. Naomi and I lock oh-my-God eyes, drop our jaws, and laugh uproariously before sticking our thumbs out again on the side of the road that leads to the beach.