Chapter One - I Was A Roadie - Page 6
Then heroin did become a thing and there was a rash of deaths associated with the drug as people miscalculated doses. For all who died, there were just as many lives wrecked or simply left behind.
A lot of brains were fried by drugs, plenty became alcoholics, and some people were taken out back and bashed senseless by uncles or fathers or bouncers or gangs. A bashing was seen as something routine and I don’t remember anyone afraid of being charged with assault. You were judged by how you handled yourself, how you handled your liquor or alcohol, and how many women you laid.
Those of us who established families left our beloved at home to become rock and roll widows, expected to be happy with the occasional phone call. Some crew burned the relationship candle at both ends; free love meant no responsibility. Women with women. Wives with mates. Mates with wives. Men with men. Nothing was going too far.
Insidiously there were underage girls everywhere, and no one seemed to go to jail for carnal knowledge when birthdays were revealed. There was a totally alien and almost surreal attitude to morality which we've dramatically reprogrammed since.
There was no responsibility for anything.
Like when some genius at Hertz decided to "corner the music industry" and they hired us Falcon wagons and trucks at flat rate with no insurance excess and a no-fault replacement scheme. We put two new wagons into wrecker yards on one trip to Queensland, yelling at the Hertz chick when we were forced to await a replacement for two hours in Kempsey.