It was the early ’60s. I was in High School and two things were my top fantasies, the 1957 Chevrolet Nomad and girls’ breasts. Television was black and white and I was beginning to lose interest in the lure of an evening in the vast wasteland. There was so many things to do outside of television: girls, homework, folk music, girls, surfing, onion rings, girls, art movies, the Beach Boys, and of course, girls.