In the summer of 1972 I was an 18 year old growing up in the suburbs of Philadelphia. My best friend and I regretted that we were too young to have attended the Woodstock Music Festival. We saw the movie at least twice and of course had bought the two album set. We were aching for a similar coming of age experience. When we heard there was a Philadelphia Folk Festival coming, we decided we had to go even if it wasn’t a “rock” event. There would be camping and we hoped to get the “Woodstock experience.” Bonnie Raitt was performing that year and that was good enough for us to get past the “Folk” label. So we packed a big heavy canvas tent into my 1960 Ford Falcon with it’s hand brushed green paint and headed to the site called Old Pool Farm. Everyone at the festival was aware of the Hurricane Agnes warnings but hey, we weren’t going to miss out and it rained at Woodstock, right?
The music was great on Saturday night and when it ended we went to sleep in our tent. Sometime after midnight the hurricane hit and collapsed the tent on top of us. In total darkness we could not find the zippers to get out and the water was pouring in through the old canvas. When we heard voices and saw flashlight beams we hollered for help. Our rescuers unzipped the opening and immediately inquired if we had any pot. We did not, but thanked them for getting us out and we ran to my car through the wind and rain. We were soaked and freezing cold. I started my car and we wrapped ourselves in my cheap foam car seats I had bought at Pep Boys. The radio came on when the car started and the song playing was Eric Clapton’s “Bell Bottom Blues.” It sounded so good and comforting as we began to warm up in my old car rocking in the wind.
The next morning the farmer who owned the land had to drag all the cars from his field using his tractor as all the rain turned the field into a quagmire. Whenever I hear that Clapton song I smile with the memories and it still gives me a warm feeling.