Pat and I drove to San Francisco and stayed with Aunt Jean and Uncle Lloyd. The night after we arrived, we drove across the Bay Bridge, but it was raining so hard and so steadily that we turned back halfway across the bridge.
The next day was beautiful. I'm standing at Fisherman's Wharf and at the high point of Coit Tower in the second photograph.
Even in the pictures of Pat at Point Loma, you can see that white jeans were popular. Plus, I bought several of those pullover short-sleeved shirts, like the one I am wearing above, from a clothing shop managed by a friend of Daylin's not far from their house in South Gate.
It was tough, that first night in San Leandro to actually sleep in the same bed with Pat, although nothing was going to happen since he was gay. Pat was one of the very few guys I came out to, and it clearly did not matter to him, even if we simply remained friends and nothing further.
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