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It's 1973 and I've got a job. I'm fifteen years old and I'm fresh out of school, working as a plumber's mate, which I hate. It's a cold winter and I've got frostbite. Jim Parker, my boss, is irritated by my presense. He keeps telling me I wasn't his first choice but his wife liked me. I must've charmed her at the interview. I had hair like Roger McGuinn on the cover of his new solo album, which I just bought with one of my first pay checks. I couldn't actually escape, but I found myself lost in the West Coast sound of The Byrds, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Steve Miller and Little Feat, whilst the radio in Jim's van played The Osmonds, David Cassidy and Mud. I could die in that van. There were times I was tempted to grab the wheel and force the vehicle into oncoming traffic just to stop the pain. But when I got home there was Roger McGuinn singing his songs just for me, I'm So Restless, Lost My Driving Wheel and The Water Is Wide. A couple of years later Roger was on tour with his Bobness, rolling his thunder.