Those of us, fortunate enough to remember the sixties (or at least part of them), have two remarkable events logged in the recesses of our minds. One was the lunar landing, but the second, and definitely the more important, was the Bethel Rock Festival, known to most of us as Woodstock. What teenager of the day, wouldn’t want to attend such a cultured event? My friend and I set out on a warm August morning in 1969, in his ’62 Chevy. The car was special because we had spent an