The closer we got, the more traffic slowed. We crept along for several miles, at no more than fifteen miles an hour. Once we wereon the other side of Eldred, New York, past a cemetery, all movement stopped. Our road, a lazy two-lane stretch with a hill in the distance, kept us from seeing all that far, but what we could see was a long line of cars stuck together like a freight train.
“Crap.There’s a wreck,” Livy said, gripping the sides of her head. She glanced at me with a clenched jaw. “Look and see how far away we are. We can’t miss Nick, SuSu. We can’t.”
I had my doubts. We were supposed to meet him in two hours. Good thing we hadn’t stopped at the chocolate factory.
After another map check, I learned Bethel was still eleven miles away. Not wanting to alarm Livy, all I said was, “Even if we’re a little late, you’ll find him. You’re the most persistent person I know.”
An hour later we had not budged an inch.
Pretty soon people grew impatient. Cars passed us on both sides of the road with folks standing in the back seats of convertibles, others riding on the tops of hoods and trunks, all holding on somehow. Kids waved and flashed peace signs as they passed.
Like an ambulance driver in a mad rush, Livy whipped Pally over to the right shoulder to tail behind a ’67 GTO convertible with a Pennsylvania license plate overflowing with hippies. Only that didn’t get us very far. Once we crested the hill, all traffic stopped again. Hundreds more had had the same idea. Clearly, a wreck had not caused the colossal traffic jam. It was the festival. Had to be.
Highway 55 was no longer two lanes; it was four. All headed in the same direction, to the same place. Woodstock. As far as the eye could see, it was one gargantuan parking lot. The only vehicles moving forward were motorcycles, weaving in and out of the lanes and shoulders. The car next to us had steam pouring out of the hood.
Livy drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmured through gritted teeth.
“Try to calm down,” I told her. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“How am I supposed to calm down?” She looked at her watch. “My boyfriend will be frantic if we aren’t there.”
Before long people gave up. They turned off their engines and spilled out of their vehicles. Some propped up on trunks, others sat down on the road, and more settled in the fields. A few yards in front of us, we spied a dude playing his guitar on the roof of a VW bus. Despite the gridlock, no one seemed upset.
No one except Livy.
It was one giant street party, and I, for one, ached to be a part of it. “Look behind you,” I said, turning around in my seat. Hundreds of people laden with suitcases, tents, coolers, and sleeping bags were headed our way.
Livy stuck her head out the window, then waved down a boy as he passed. “Excuse me! Where did you park?”
He stopped, then squatted so his head was level with hers. Laughter filled his voice. “On the road.”
“You left your car in the middle of the road?” she asked, wide eyed.
Another chuckle, then a silly face. “Yeah, man. I figure no one’s going anywhere around here till Sunday.” He handed Livy a wildflower. “For you, Sunshine.”
“Aw. Thanks, man!” She tucked it behind her ear, shooting him one of her flirty smiles.
After a lustful grin of his own, he flashed us the peace sign and continued on his journey.
She turned off the engine, snatched the keys from the ignition. “Get your stuff, SuSu. Hurry.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” Cranking up her window at rocket speed, Livy motioned for me to do the same. “There’s no telling how much longer we’ll be stuck here.” She adjusted the rearview mirror, glanced at her flawless face, and then slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. “Dear God, I hope we don’t have to walk far.”
I kept my mouth shut. According to the map, we still had ten miles to go.
Livy was out of the car by the time I’d stuffed the last of our snacks inside my purse. I shoved the passenger door open with my foot, as wide as it would go.
“Ow!” a male voice bellowed out of nowhere, followed by a long moan.
What the heck?With a glance outside, I noticed there was a boy right next to my door, stooped over, rubbing his knee. I stumbled out, gripping the sides of my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“It’s okay. I have another knee.” When he straightened up and smiled, I did an unexpected double take.
“Two knees are ... much better than one,” I managed to say, surprised I could even speak. I was so taken with his beauty. Without thinking, I reached out my hand to caress his kneecap but drew it back in a hurry, embarrassed.
His second smile let me know he didn’t mind. “You guys headed to the festival?”
