3 word wed.

dissolve, trinket and zest

It was his zest for living that drew him to Golden Gate Park that Sunday afternoon in 1986. Wannabe love-ins? It didn't matter if hed been born to late for the real thing, he wanted to see, to be a part of something ideal -- if only a re-creation.
A new high school graduate, the boy-come-man was beyond doing things for experimentation purposes. He was looking for the experience, a chance to, perhaps, find himself. At the very worst, he would trip hard and wind up on the Great Highway. At best, well, he could magically be transported back to the Summer of Love.
He parked his old Nova, a beater with nearly 200,000 miles and nearly as many stories. He placed the paper on his tongue and felt it slowly begin to dissolve. Now, he would only have to wait.
In the distance, he heard music. Not the Grateful Dead, whom he'd come to see, but some Afro-reggae sounds. It would be his pied-piper, drawing him in as the trip started.
Lined up along roads leading into the park were hippies, old and young, selling trinkets and other wares -- and ends to a mean to make it to the next show. From beads to hemp products to tie-dye shirts, the avenue was a throwback trading post.
He walked along, getting deeper in the park and deeper into his high. The more he walked, the better he felt. The better he felt, the more he felt like walking.
Until he came to a clearing -- the Great Meadow. The sounds magnified. So, too, did the sensations.
Unsure where this journey would lead, he was sure it would be memorable. If he could remember it.