1970. The sixteen year-old Pines twins were sitting at a booth in their favorite 1950s style diner, product of a sudden spur of nostalgia for the recent past. Frankie Avalon crooned from the jukebox as patrons did some kind of movement meant to be the Watusi. A light rain poured outside.
Looking slight underneath his windbreaker and with the beginnings of sideburns curling about his ears, Ford stirred his strawberry milkshake with a straw. He looked thoughtful as an acne-covered Stan complained about his latest girlfriend in between bites of a Philly cheesesteak sandwich, some of the grease flying onto his white T-shirt as he spoke.
"Ford, I don't even know what to do with Carla anymore! She used to be really cool, but now all she ever wants to do is talk my head off about Vietnam and military atrocities and spirit animals or whatever. She even wanted me to go to one of those anti-war rallies, like we're damn hippies or something!"
"It's not like the war is some little thing," said Ford. "Carla has a right to be concerned."
"Of course, she has the right! Doesn't mean she has to bore me with it though…" Stan sighed, putting the sandwich down as he leaned his face against his right hand. "Why can't we just dance the twist and make out in the back of a movie theater like we used to?"
Ford shrugged, pushing his half-consumed shake aside. "Things change… People change. The world is a crazy place right now."
"Well, I'm sick of it anyway," said Stan. "Somedays, it feels like everything is just being pulled from under my feet. You're about the only one who hasn't gone nuts on me, you know that?"
Ford cracked a smile and then laid a hand on his brother's shoulder from across the booth. "Come on, Stanley… I can handle this melancholy from anybody but you."
The words had little comfort. Stan's expression darkened. "What if that stupid war keeps going on and on though? What if we end up gettin' drafted?"
Ford struggled to come up with an answer, but there was no way to definitely clear away those concerns. Deciding on the easiest route, he grinned mischievously and leaned forward.
"Then I guess we'll need to sail off on the Stan O'War before we turn eighteen."
The magic words. Stan looked up and grinned. "We'll need to get on that, won't we? I'll have to kidnap Carla and make her come with us too, before she goes totally insane."
"And steal all the pot from her hippie friends while you're at it, huh?"
Stan guffawed. "You know me too well, nerd king!"
Ford pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up from the bridge of his nose and did a mock salute. "I prefer Captain Nerd, if you please."
Stan continued with his bought of laughter. Ford laughed too, though he quieted down much more quickly, turning his face to the window. His smile grew wistful as he watched rain streak against the glass. It would be their senior year soon.
How long was Stanley going to keep up with this boat trip dream?