It Was The 60's

Once upon a time my father was young, hard to believe, I know. He was stupid in his youth. Most of us are. But stupidity can lead to some great stories when one is wise enough to tell them.

He was fifteen years old. It was Arkansas back in the 60's. Cruising down state line was the thing to do on a Friday night, so thats what he did.

His buddy and girl friend picked him up from his small country house. It had a street light where they had played baseball at night as kids.

Upon the friends arrival. Well, let's call the friend Johnny. Johnny pulled up in his mom's brand spanking new Ford Thunderbird. It flew like the wind.

Now let me clarify some things real quick. My dad street raced cars a little after this story. He was a speed demon if there was one. He had to get behind the wheel and drop that pedal to the metal.

The problem was his age. He was not quite old enough for his license. It was the 60's. Nobody cared about a drivers license in the 60's. Well maybe some people did.

Some how my dad weaseled his way into getting behind the wheel. He was driving. Johnny and his girlfriend were in the back. He was flying down old country roads. Wild and free.

It was about eleven o'clock at night. It was dark. They were going through residential neighborhoods at about sixty. Johnny locking lips in the back. Dad locked on the road.

The only person in the 60's who cared about a license showed up. Red and blue lights flipped on and the chase was on. Sirens were screaming in the crisp night air. Dad quickly analyzed the situation. He, a fifteen year old was driving sixty in a neighborhood with a speed limit probably closer to thirty.

That wasn't the only problem. It was Johnny's mom's car. Not Johnny's. Johnny quickly lost all care about his kissing booth companion and realized how deep of a hole he was in. He started yelling at my dad and screaming that his mom was gonna kill him.

My dad started sweating. His hands tightened around the wheel. "Here we go" he muttered under his breath. He kept his foot down. The cops were gaining on him so he had to act quick.

Dad slammed on the breaks then a quick right turn. The foot was back on the gas and the Thunderbird was roaring. Dad looked in the rear view mirror. The men in blue were right on his tail.

Johnny began using words that I choose not to repeat lest the Lord look down on me. Dad told Johnny to shut up and let him focus. The girl was doing the classic, "Oh Johnny whats gonna happen?"

Dad made a quick left and a quick right hoping it would throw the cops. No luck. Red and blue lights were still in the mirrors. Now my dad started using some extra salty words.

"Ok Johnny" my dad said, "This could go wrong." My dad turned right onto another suburban street with brown apartments to his right and colorful houses to his left. He killed the lights. It was dark.

Johnny began freaking out and yelling again. The girl in the back let out a scream. Dad turned left and saw a patch of tall grass at the end of a dead end.

That was the golden ticket out of this. He sped up till right before the curb. Dad hit the breaks to keep from flying to0 far into the grass. The car jumped the curb with a jolt that jostled Johnny. The Thunderbird faded into the grass.

My dad pulled the emergency break. Break lights would show too much light and could ruin the escape. The cops pulled onto the dead end. Then came down to the end of the road. They paused. Lights flashing. Sirens screaming. Grass flashing red and blue.

Johnny looked like he was praying for the first time in his life. Dad was sweating and hoping the cops would keep going. The lights faded and it was dark. It was quiet.

They sat there for what felt like an hour. Finally Johnny told my dad to move over. He took him home and told him he could never ever drive his car again.