Yes, there’s a serial killer in this story, along with a Hollywood producer, an adventure in Europe, and my introduction into a life of crime by the daughter of a prominent actor. It’s a true story too.

I present it to you as journal entries, almost exactly as I wrote them more than 40 years ago. I have added a little clarification as to who’s who and cleaned up a few spelling and punctuation errors. Also, I’ve changed some names out of respect for the privacy of those people.

Otherwise, this is a truthful account of the adventures and misadventures I experienced after my divorce in 1976.

Although I was 28 at the time this occurred, I was always years behind my peers in terms of landmark life events. I didn’t even date in high school. I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 18. And when I got married at age 24, I probably was closer to 18 or 19 in terms of maturity.

I’d always been a good boy too. I didn’t drink in high school or take drugs. I made good grades and never got into trouble. In other words, I was an exemplary Baby Boomer— go to college, serve your country, find a job, get married, have kids …

Only my wife and I never got to that last part. During the first two years of marriage, we moved around, searching for a place where we both could find good jobs. But when we finally found that place— Tallahassee, Fla. — achieved the American Dream and settled into a routine, the relationship began to deteriorate. At least I think that’s what happened. I still was the good boy and mostly oblivious. I almost certainly would have stayed married if Lois had not taken the first step.

But she told me that she was bored and depressed. By implication, even someone as oblivious as I was could see that she believed I was the reason for her unhappiness. She said she wanted a divorce.

Slowly I began to realize that I was in a place that I’d never been before. I had fulfilled all obligations and, from this point, there was no societal road map to guide my behavior.

In other words, I was free!

Not long after, I decided that I’d go to Europe. I’d always thought about visiting there someday, especially Paris. For reasons I couldn’t explain-and still can’t-I’d always been drawn to that city. So my plan was to buy a Eurail pass and a French-English translation guide, strap on a backpack, and have an adventure!

Part I of this book is about that European adventure and exploration of my inexplicable attraction to Paris. It features a little romance, but mostly is about what I saw and experienced as I met new friends and traveled with them through France, Spain, and Great Britain, with brief stops in Monaco and Andorra.

Part II is about my first Christmas back home with my small-town family in about a decade. And, yes, there’s romance— and sex— here as well.

Part III is where mono and mayhem join romance upon my return to Florida. I became ill the day I arrived back in the Sunshine State and, consequently, spent weeks confined to a rental bed in friends’ living room. Not long after, I committed a crime and fled the scene, and, in revealing this, hope that the statue of limitations has run out. This part also is about Hollywood, good friends, and summer at the lake.

Part IV is the most serious in tone, dealing with loss, addiction, and murder by someone who I’d later learn was one of the nation’s most notorious serial killers. But it also features a little sex, some special brownies, and a quirky adventure with a theater crowd as I struggle to decide what I want to do when I grow up.