The Kings Of Cool

47

“I want to deal my own shit,” he tells Doc one day as they’re sitting out in the lineup waiting for the next set.

“Why?” Doc asks. “You’re making money.”

“Handling your money,” John answers. “I want to handle my own money.”

“I don’t know, man.”

“I do,” John says. “Look, if you won’t supply me, I’ll go to somebody else.”

Doc figures that if the kid goes somewhere else he could get burned or ripped off or walk right into a police setup. At least if I sell to him, Doc thinks, I know the kid will be safe.

So now, in addition to his cash over his shoulder, John has fat joints taped to the bottom of his skateboard and sells them for five bucks each.

Now John is making money.

He doesn’t spend it on albums, clothes, or taking girls out. He saves it. Not even sixteen, he hands Doc a pile of money and asks him to buy him a car.

A beautifully restored 1954 Plymouth station wagon.