I was totally wrong about Uncle Chauncey. Friday night was about to turn into a nightmare when Val left us at the sorority house, but Uncle Chauncey saved us. I feel ashamed for some of the things I've said about him to Rad and Glenn. He saved our butts. And he regaled us all weekend with his stories from around the country as we drank Colt .45. His tales of being twenty-four at Woodstock were priceless. That man has been around, he knows things. He's like Kerouac, always wise and perpetually on the road. Uncle Chauncey said he knew we were going to be in trouble as soon as he saw us hanging around with Val. Intuition told him that Val was chicken shit.
I still don't want to call him Uncle Cock Man, but I feel within myself that he has much to teach. Especially with Trish. I think this is going to be a good Summer.