Captainkirk's Duster project
Ooooh, oooooohweee! The Wild Night is calling!
Van Morrison
Well, OK. I guess a nice bedtime story is in order
; you've all been ever so patient and faithful, so I guess I owe it to you. There was a time, before the Li'l red minx ever stuck her scarlet *****-arrow in my heart, when we used to drive around, burning up high octane gasoline for little or no reason, and certainly no good reason
..we called it cruising. Our parents probably called it something else. This one night in particular stands out. It was a warm summer night, probably early June, school was out for the summer, and a sometimes-friend/neighborhood kid I'd grown up with stopped by to show off his new ride. It was impressive
; a '67 Pontiac Firebird, 326 (two-barrel), nice wide 60s on the rear, with Cragars all around, a deep, metallic cobalt color adorned the exterior, with white pleather interior; short-backed ivory buckets and a three-speed on the floor. What's that? Do I wanna go for a cruise? The hell you say! Did Calley wanna get the hell out of Viet Nam? OK, then, move over; I'm climbin' in.
There were a couple of other guys I knew at the time wedged in the car already. We did a Chinese fire drill so one of the back seat guys could swap with the front seat guy who was smaller so I could sardine myself in beside him. Huh? Well, you had to be there. So, off we went, checking out his new wheels. So let it be written that Led Zeppelin II sounds really bitchin' cranked on a Craig eight-track;
at least, until you get to the part where Heartbreaker is supposed to morph into Livin', Lovin' Maid
and it DOESNT!!! ARRRGHHHH! That always drove me nuts! It was still light out, not hot, but definitely warm. The windows were all down, and he had the 4/60 air conditioning on full blast. What's that? Never heard of 4/60 AC? Sure you have. Go sixty, roll down all four windows. Presto!
The little bird had plenty of punch, for a two-barrel. There we were, cruisin' all over Mudville, Starsky and Hutch-ing all over the subdivisions. At some nameless intersection we happened across a big, yellow four-door LTD full of seniors from our high school (we were still sophomores) and somehow managed to piss them off. (???)
The chase was on.
Now, for those of you who have never seen Steve McQueen in Bullitt
..rent it. You will not be disappointed. For those of you who have already seen it
..well, we weren't in San Francisco, but we were doing a damn good imitation. Dusk was beginning to fall; streetlights were popping on as if by magic, mothers were calling their children in to wash up for bed, and we were careening down residential streets at twice the speed limit like pool balls after the break with an LTD full of pissed-off seniors barrelling down on us in hot pursuit! The driver (we'll call him "Bill") was starting to sweat it...
these guys were relentless
. Bill was a little scared by now and was pulling out all the stops to shake these guys! He careened around a corner, the inside two wheels almost off the ground, and shrieked down this quiet suburban side street with tires screeching. He stomps on the brakes, and locking them up, lurches into a driveway, cuts the motor and lights, and hisses Everyone DOWN! NOW! We did our best to slouch down in the back seat, (which, in itself, is no mean feat!) and sat there holding our collective breaths! Sure enough, seconds later, we heard the distinctive four-barrelled howl of the LTD in all its angered fury
.buhWAAAAAAAHHH!
..as it fairly flew past us
oblivious to the fact that we were but six feet from the pavement above which it flew. Four heads popped up in unison; the motor roared to life and Robert Plant screeched at us, scaring the living crap out of all of us. Bill jammed the little bird in reverse, then first. Before he exited the driveway. Turning right, he drove across the guys front lawn, tires digging twin trenches as they kicked up rooster tails of dirt and sod. The yard was edged with a short hedge; no matter, Bill drove right through it, over the curb and back out the way we came in. Lights were popping on like newborn stars and a man was shrieking bloody murder at the top of his lungs somewhere behind us as we tore out of the subdivision. Bill headed straight back towards the other side of town where we all lived. Nobody uttered a word. I could hear the sirens in the distance as Bill let me off in my driveway
, shaken, and still reeling from the wild ride. I felt really bad for the guy with the lawn and the hedge
..a day or so later I drove around with some other friends until we found the house
. It was a total mess. We'd had some heavy rains earlier that month, and the still-soft lawn was virtually destroyed. The hedge had been chopped down to ground level, but you could still see the trenches running up to
...and through
..the hedge. I saw Bill a few times more after that, but I never rode with him again. I figured maybe he had a death wish or something. I understand that the seniors in the LTD did eventually catch up with him, once they figured out who owned the car, but I don't think anything really came of it. He's still alive, anyway. Wild nights, indeed!
