Fred Gordon

Just after flunking out of university in the mountains of Pennsylvania, and because his parents wouldn’t let him go to school in California, Fred 

(a.k.a. Fred Jay Gordon) was on his way to an interview at a supermarket for a possible job in a little bug of a car in the middle of a raging snowstorm. His roommate, who swore he knew how to drive the borrowed car, lost control at the top of a steep, snowy mountain road winding down toward a fifteen-ton truck. For the first time in his life, Fred passed out. The tiny car smashed into the truck, was thrown off the road into a tree, bounced back, hit another car, and was demolished. Both young men were thrown out of the car, and Fred regained consciousness several hours later in a hospital elevator surrounded by nurses in white uniforms. He tried to flirt with them, but passed out again. His roommate only suffered a collapsed lung and was annoyed that he lost his glasses. Fred’s face was cut open, sewn back together, and, hours later, when he woke up, his mother was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed. Fred asked, “Now, can I go to Berkeley?”