On the last journey we had together, going from Knoxville, Tennessee, to Orlando, Florida, I was on the bus, and he said to me, “I want to quit rock & roll.” I said, “You want what?” He was the type of guy who would want to move on to something else once he experienced something. I said, “Are you joking?” He said, “No. I want to get a degree at UCLA.” I said, “Carry on the way you’re going, you’ll be able to buy UCLA.” That was the last conversation I had with him. And 12 hours later he was dead. As I’m thinking about it now, my mind is running the tape in my head of that day. Every time I talk about it, I’m back there. It’s just one of the saddest parts of my life.
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