Here's a memory from Woodstock. Talk about a coincidence or synchronicity.

Saturday morning, walking around with a buddy of mine. We got up, we ran into a couple of other people, they were packing it in. It had rained during the night, and they'd been there since Thursday. So they said they were going to take off. They gave me a bottle of wine and a can of tuna fish, said, 'Look, you guys are staying. And you could probably use this, cause we're leaving now, we've had enough.' 

So... it was much appreciated at the time and even more appreciated two years later, driving in Connecticut down Route 84 heading towards Hartford, and seeing a hitchhiker on the side of the road. So you probably already know where this is going. We pull over. We used to give people rides back then. Asked him where he's headed, he's going to Hartford. I said, 'Oh, I'm only going as far as Newtown, but hop in, I can take you that far.' So we start talking and you know, the subject of Woodstock came up and I kept glancing over—he just seemed familiar somehow. Before I got to where I was getting off to, I said, 'Yeah, so you were there and you left on Saturday you said, huh?' He goes,' Yeah,  I didn't say so, but I left Saturday. How do you know? Why do you say?' I said, 'Because when you left, did you give somebody some food and something to drink, like a can of tuna and some wine?' He goes, 'Yeah, I did, how did you know?' I said, 'Cause you gave that can of tuna and wine to me.'

Out of all the people—half a million people that were there—and I run into the same guy who gave us that food and wine two years earlier. That's something that was just meant to be. Like Woodstock was meant to be. I ended up taking him all the way to Hartford. 

My name if you need it was Kurt Beck, if you need it, and I was there with my buddy George Englert. Hey, have a good one. Bye.