In order to raise some cash one day, Jobs decided to sell his IBM Selectric typewriter.
He walked into the room of the student who had offered to buy it only to discover that he was having sex with his girlfriend.
Jobs started to leave, but the student invited him to take a seat and wait while they finished.
"I thought, 'This is kind of far out,'" Jobs later recalled.
And thus began his relationship with Robert Friedland, one of the few people in Jobs's life who were able to mesmerize him.
He adopted some of Friedland's charismatic traits and for a few years treated him almost like a guru—until he began to see him as a charlatan.
Friedland was four years older than Jobs, but still an undergraduate.
The son of an Auschwitz survivor who became a prosperous Chicago architect, he had originally gone to Bowdoin, a liberal arts college in Maine.
But while a sophomore, he was arrested for possession of 24,000 tablets of LSD worth $125,000.
The local newspaper pictured him with shoulder-length wavy blond hair smiling at the photographers as he was led away.
He was sentenced to two years at a federal prison in Virginia, from which he was paroled in 1972.
That fall he headed off to Reed, where he immediately ran for student body president,
saying that he needed to clear his name from the "miscarriage of justice" he had suffered. He won.
Friedland had heard Baba Ram Dass, the author of Be Here Now, give a speech in Boston, and like Jobs and Kottke had gotten deeply into Eastern spirituality.
During the summer of 1973, he traveled to India to meet Ram Dass's Hindu guru, Neem Karoli Baba, famously known to his many followers as Maharaj-ji.
When he returned that fall, Friedland had taken a spiritual name and walked around in sandals and flowing Indian robes.
He had a room off campus, above a garage, and Jobs would go there many afternoons to seek him out.
He was entranced by the apparent intensity of Friedland's conviction that a state of enlightenment truly existed and could be attained.
"He turned me on to a different level of consciousness," Jobs said.
Friedland found Jobs fascinating as well. "He was always walking around barefoot," he later told a reporter.
"The thing that struck me was his intensity. Whatever he was interested in he would generally carry to an irrational extreme."