I love the song, love Clapton’s guitar playing, but don’t agree with his politics. Wish he would keep it to himself.

So beautiful. I was lucky to be there when they first played this onstage, at a free concert in Hyde Park, London, back when Clapton and Winwood were half of Blind Faith. 

Not much, nothing but a couple of the finest guitar players and songsters on the planet on same wavelength with a spot on drummer playing a little tune.  Best cut I've heard this week.  I always liked this song, mostly 'cause I could fully relate to the 'lost' premise.  It reminds me of the night I saw Howard Hugh's "Hells Angels at the Unicorn Theatre in La Jolla.  In the Mithras Bookstore it seated about 20.  The projector used a special "color accurate" bulb that regularly burned out, making time for some Italian Ice.  My dorm-mates had raided the Crystallography Lab through the underground service tunnel and come away with a dozen 500 ml bottles of 100% USP Ethanol.  I'd already learned about Mexican Victoria Alcohol (known simply as 192) from the summer parties in Coronado.  At 96% it is the highest alcohol percentage that can be distilled by ordinary means—without chemical dehydration of the last 4% water.  Still, I was a smart ass and by the time the movie was over the spiked Italian Ice had taken it toll on me.  I lost the argument with my concerned friends and token struggle for my car keys, declined a ride home to Coronado and said I'd walk to a girlfriend's house that was nearby.  Bullheaded, of course, I was determined to drive home myself, so I pulled the spare ignition key I kept wired to the undercarriage of my TR4.  I had no trouble driving, but was certainly over the legal alcohol limit.  To avoid the La Jolla Fuzz (who always had a heavy presence and liked to pull over young drivers at random) I took off over Mount Soledad (a windy 6 mi. drive with many branches and a fantastic view.  Unfortunately there was no view since within 2 blocks I ran into the thickest fog bank I'd ever encountered.  Visibility was ~l5' and headlights (not even the brights) made it worse.  I navigated (immediately got lost) from streetlamp glow to streetlamp glow.  The provided just enough diffused light to  see the pavement just in front of the car and there was always one light showing the way to the next.  I must have driven every street at least twice but I always ended up in La Jolla near where I'd started.  Just before dawn (5 hours later) I finally drove out of the fog bank and made it to the 5 freeway and home.

I'm certain the nearly no one will think much of my ramblings.   There is, however an old friend whom I seldom contact.  He was with me that night and is an RP fan.  I never admitted my foolish odyssey to anyone and he sometimes looks for my RP posts in our shared musical likes.  He'll get a chuckle.  He also owned practically everything put on vinyl since 1966, stacks and stacks of orange crates full.  If one got a scratch (highly, not likely) or a pop he replaced it.  At college, he had the first real turntable I'd seen (Dual 1019, it changed records).  He learned electronics hanging around his local TV repair shop as an adolescent; from which he picked up enough to get a summer job General Dynamics designing micro-miniature microwave transmitters to relay impact information back from sensors ice cap survey probes and military tank ammunition.  Good night Larry.   — Got this on vinyl?  I know you have it on "Blind Faith".

Oh, the memories! First true love.... and her brothers' record collection :)

Obviously no GPS back then.

After learning about racist remarks from Clapton in the 70's with the highlight being that England should only allow whites and non-whites would never be welcomed. 

Pretty much summarizes my year at the University of Vermont in 1988.

I had a friend with the same affliction, coupled with "I mean..."  Eventually it got to the point where he was ending discourses with, "I mean..., ya know what I mean, ya know?"