Cars Fillmore Quotes

and were willing to suffer pain if necessary.” A young woman in the spring and summer of 1967 was walking toward a door just as that door was springing open. A stage was set for her adulthood that was so accommodatingly extreme—so whimsical, sensual, and urgent—that behavior that in any other era would carry a penalty for the daring was shielded and encouraged. There was safety in numbers for every gorgeous madness; good girls wanting to be bad hadn’t had so much cover since the Jazz Age. San Francisco—glowing with psychedelic mystique, the whole city plastered with Fillmore and Avalon posters of tangle-haired goddess girls—was preparing for a convocation (of hapless runaways from provincial suburbs, it would turn out), the Summer of Love, through which the term “flower children” would be coined, while in harsh, emotion-sparking contrast, helicopters were dropping thousands of U.S. boys into the swamps of Vietnam.

by the rain. The demonstration had been mostly peaceful, but a bus was stopped on Fillmore, and a car was overturned in front of Northern Station. Police in riot gear were stationed along the route. The media frenzy was fully engaged. “We’ll get through it, Gio,” I said. “Easy for you to say.” “We need to focus on what we can control.” “The chief won’t let me come to work. He said that I have to take a leave until Johnny’s case is resolved.” It was probably for the better. “I need you to focus on Johnny.” “I need you to get him out of jail.” “Working on it.” “Work harder. I heard that you couldn’t get a judge to set bail.” “We’ll try again at the arraignment.” “What are the chances?” Not great. “Hard to predict. If it’s first-degree murder, it’s going to be an uphill battle.” “He’ll wear a monitoring device. We’ll agree that he’ll stay with Maria and me.” “We’ll make that offer in the morning.” His tone turned pointed. “We need the judge to agree.” I leveled with him. “You know how things work, Gio. I can’t give you any guarantees.” “We’re talking about my son, Mike.” Luca put a hand on Gio’s shoulder. “Mike’s doing everything that he can, Gio. It’s been less than a day. Things take time.” I appreciated the vote of confidence, albeit tepid. Gio wouldn’t let it go. “My son is in jail.” “We’ll fix it,” I said. “It would be helpful if you, Maria, and the boys are in court in the morning. It’s good to have