Stealing into the basement after his parents were asleep had been the easy part. The tricky maneuver was getting his father's new time machine turned on, and running smoothly before his father came down to stop him. It had been his father's intention to make the first ever test trip back into the past, and Johnny couldn't let his dad take that chance. After all, he was over 55 years old, and there was no telling what physical conditions were needed for a trip like this. And since Johnny was in the best physical shape he'd ever been in he figured it would be better, at least for the first test, if he went instead of his father.
He left his father's settings on the machine, and then threw the main power switch. There was an immediate humming that quickly intensified to the point that the very air around Johnny began to vibrate. A sudden flash of lightning as an dark oval window appeared out of nowhere in front of Johnny, and as he heard footsteps in the kitchen above him he stepped through the time portal.
Johnny was amazed. The trip through his fathers latest invention the space/time portal had landed him gently out in a field with a sky full of stars, and the horizon full of vehicular headlights all heading one way, and not getting there very fast. A quick look at his watch told him that he had until noon two days from now before he had to return to his own time at this very spot. He quickly took note that he was standing on a boulder next to a scarecrow, and then headed in the direction everybody else was going. He knew that his father's new time machine had been set for upstate New York, sometime in the late 60's, and that this was it's first test run, but that was all he knew.
He found the problem of the stalled headlights 15 minutes later. It was an old school bus with a weird paint scheme, and steam billowing out of the engine compartment.
"What seems to be the problem?" He asked the thin black man with the grease stained face.
"Damn engine keeps overheating, and I can't figure it out," the stranger then looked at him, and his eyes went wide in surprise, "look honkey, what I don't need is another lecture on the complexities of the internal combustion engine. If I don't got the money, then I can hardly afford paying a mechanic, right?"
"Actually," Johnny said, "I was going to say you need a little duct tape for that radiator hose."
"Duct tape?"
"I have some here in my ruck sack, hold on, I'll have it fixed for you in a jiff." Two minutes later Johnny had the entire hose wrapped up in duct tape. "There ya go, just add water, and she'll be okay."
"Yeah, but for how long?" Asked the black man.
"Well, it might last a year, but you'd be better off replacing the hose before then."
"No shit? Thanks. And sorry about the honkey thing, I was just a little on edge. Hey, if you want to you can ride with us... um..." and he put out his hand.
"Johnny," he finished for him shaking the offered hand.
"Johnny, eh. I know how that goes. My name is James, but everybody calls me Jimmy. Hop in."
The bus was filled with black people who suddenly stopped what they were doing as they saw the white man in their midst.
"This is Johnny, he's okay," James said by way of introduction, "he fixed the engine for us."
And just as quickly as they had stopped they went right back to doing what they were before spotting him. He took note that many of the people had musical instruments in front of them, and that they were in a heated debate about what key to play in for the national anthem. Not being a musician himself Johnny just took the nearest seat as the bus lurched forward, and enjoyed the ride.
In less than half an hour they reached what Johnny could only describe as some strange, maybe even cult like huge campgrounds in the middle of a farm. People everywhere were hugging, and kissing, singing strange folksy, but not quite country western songs that he wasn't quite familiar with, and they all were drinking a great deal of wine. Everyone it seemed smoked in this era, and dressed in strange denim costumes, or next to nothing in the diminishing heat, but at least they had long hair like him even if not as hygienic as he kept his.
"Thanks again," James said stopping to let him out, and this time gave Johnny a hug, and then slipped him a piece of paper. "You can use that to get backstage. See you at the concert."
"I could easily get lost here," Johnny chuckled to himself as the bus continued on without him.
"Who are you looking for?" The voice sounding like musical notes was strangely familiar.
When he turned to see who had questioned him his mouth gaped open, as he got lost in the brilliant deep blue eyes framed in delicate lattices of the natural straight ass length blond smiling demigoddess. Her buxom top wrapped in a flowery print halter only emphasized her sculpted racy curves, and tight yet dainty musculature below. Her extremely short denim skirt barely covered her pubic area enough to hide her bottom even while standing.
"They call me Daffodil," and again that musical aura of hers seemed hauntingly familiar. She put her hand out to shake Johnny's, and he started trembling the moment she put her hand in his. "So, are you looking for anyone special, or just here by yourself to enjoy the concert?"
"The latter I'm afraid," he replied, hypnotized by everything about the girl.
"Groovy, you can join us then," and she led him to a modest campfire nearby with five small tents surrounding it, and blankets scattered around like throw rugs with people sitting, drinking, smoking, and some even necking as they joined the small group. The looks on their faces as he came into their campfire light were as if they'd seen a ghost.
"Hey John! Get out here!" Yelled out the svelte redhead with flowers in her hair sitting with what looked like a real Native American passing a long pipe around. "I think your soul double just arrived."
"Say what?" Asked Johnny's spitting image coming out of the tent to his right, closely followed by a cute brunette, both of whom were buckling their belts.
The youthful face with the scraggly three-day-old beard, and wildly curly hair could only be Johnny's father, John Howard Jr. His face mirroring Johnny's own astonishment at each other's similarities.
"Well, since I'm an only child, and all of my cousins are girls I'm certain that we aren't related," his father's voice held a vigor, and arrogance to it at this time that he wasn't use to, but it was comforting just the same when they shook hands. "And you would be?"
"I'm J... Joe," he replied, almost saying his real name.