A preview of the new book from Bob “the Blade” Robinson.
I was the boring one. The rest of these housemates were one hundred percent shits and giggles. Things happened. Things happen at that age when you are just finding out how the world works. I ended up in bed one night—and I do not know how—with some fourteen-year-old girl. She made it clear she wanted nothing to happen, so nothing did. I think I was too afraid anyway. I have no idea how a fourteen-year-old got to that house and ended up spending the night with me, but at nineteen years of age, I was not asking questions or looking for anyone’s life story. At fourteen, she didn’t have much of a life story anyway.
That was the summer I first set foot in a rock nightclub. All the bikes were parked side by side outside the main entrance in front of the big club in town called “The Cellar”. My roommates and I walked in, the worn-out door attendant carded us before we walked down that sticky carpeted hallway and let me tell you it is a proud moment when you are carded for the first time. You never forget it. Inside, the disco balls were rotating, smoke was everywhere, the girls were walking around in high heels with skirts up to their necks; all of them had lit cigarettes in their hands. The beginning of Rod Stewart’s “Hot Legs” starting up as I walked in is a memory that I will never forget. Rod Stewart was in his prime in the seventies. I look back and realize how lucky I am to have grown up in that era. Think about it: “Hot Legs”, “Stay with Me”, “I Know (I’m Losing You)”, “Maggie May”. God bless Rod Stewart.