Like more than a few boys who grew up in a small town, I have a thing for beautiful women who are unattainable. At that time (late fifties, early sixties) there were perhaps a couple hundred available "girls" in Mohave County and five of them were absolutely beautiful. These gorgeous "babes" (Sorry, I'm not sorry) also had another thing in common: they wanted nothing to do with me. Some of my friends said it was because I was too skinny. Others reminded me I was obnoxious and had a severe case of acne. Whatever the real reason (all of the above?) I finally realized, quite a few people are into that whole physically attractive deal and apparently it's reciprocal.
So when you are totally out of the running, what does a poor boy do—except play in a rock 'n' roll band—well, you fixate on totally unattainable females. And when I was in the eighth grade that would be this very mature and very unattainable girl:
But back to the High Five from Kingman. The irony is, it's been sixty years, and I'm still trying to impress those five girls.
And two of them are dead! ("The first edition is sold out, Renee. Now, will you go to prom with me?")
I know it sounds weird and comes off as extremely immature, but it has been my motivation and driver for a very long time and on some level I will die with this odd, five-unattainable-girls-muse pushing me onward.