Here... eat this

These things came to mind when my son recently acquired his driver’s license…

I think it would be safe to say that “back in the day” there was a whole lot of drinking going on…

The word that comes to mind when I think back on being relatively young is lucky. Lucky that I’m not dead, lucky that I never killed anyone, lucky someone never killed me. I started out in a 1981 Chevrolet Malibu classic.. A four door sedan.. Needless to say, that meant I was chauffeur at large for the people I knew. I had fun for a while. In high school people approached me all the time wanting a ride home, at the time, that was fine with me because it meant gas money… As time went by it became quite a pain in the ass. So I contacted a friends dad that sold cars and told him that I was in the market for something small. He called me a few days later and told me he had a car for me if I was interested. I went over and discovered a 1985 Pontiac fiero.. Perfect for my needs… hey.. I was young, what did I know about lemons? He let me drive it around for the weekend and I decided I wanted it. Thus ended the days of the phone calls, “Hey… want to go to the mall?”

What transpired from that day forward is a blur of color and sound that could only be matched by the fury of a south Alabama tornado.. The festivities would begin on the odd Friday night around elevenish, when everyone’s dates would be over and the gathering would begin… I would have a leg up on them from an early start, after a visit to a local convenience store to stock up on a twelve pack of Budweiser and a bottle of blue nun wine. I had it timed out so that the inventory would be almost depleted by the time they started arriving. Then we would go out drinking…

A few highlights come to mind from around then…

I lived through a live version of the scene in the movie vacation when the camera pans around the car to see each member of the family asleep, finally landing on the dad, sound asleep with the rest of them, just before the big wreck in the desert. We were in an early seventies impala, one of those cars that got around three tenths of a mile per gallon that could comfortably seat around thirty people, screaming down the road I live on, in a curve no less. There we were.. all asleep, just as happy as we could be. Well, passed out was more like it. By some miracle the two of us in the front seat woke up just as we were driving off the side of the road into my brothers front yard, a drop of some six or seven feet down a nice steep bank… I think, “Hey… what, what.. Holy shit..” was the next comment that came out of the driver..

There was the guy in the back yard who, when asked what he was doing on his hands and knees, answered with, “I’m holding on to the grass so I won’t fly off the earth”..

Then there were the late night ventures through the tech tunnel in Atlanta to see what parties were taking place on the Georgia Tech campus… after parking at the varsity.. Those nights usually ended with a drive down Stewart avenue to yell at the hookers and drug dealers..

The night the guy jumped in the car was a good one, “Whatever you guys are looking for I can get for you, drive up in here.. Yeah.. that’s right, up in this hotel complex… right through that gate into that courtyard.” I took one look around at all of the non-English speaking people haunting the dimly lit courtyard in the open doorways of the rooms as they stared the car down with looks of hunger and opportunity and decided it wasn’t the right place to be.. That was the fastest twenty seven point turn I have ever done.. That evening started with turning around in the A&P parking lot wondering why the traffic wasn’t moving, until I realized I wasn’t in line for the light to the exit, but was in line to talk to the hookers..

One night started out in the parking lot of the boat ramp on the Chattahoochee river at Whitesburg… When we arrived, there were two street lights across the river, and at last count there were four or five. We woke up the next morning wondering just how in the world we made it back home… a thought that still haunts me to this day..

One of us had imbibed too much one night and was about to be ill when I thought of something that might be funny… We were hanging out on the road in front of our house as he was lamenting his condition, “I’ll bet I can get him to throw up in less than ten minutes.” is the thought I had. I ran into the house, stumbled into the kitchen and proceeded to make a three inch thick sandwich with tons of mayo, salt, pepper, and lays potato chips, with just a few drops of mustard for flavor… the three inch thickness of the sandwich was after compressing it down from about eight inches.. I dutifully ran back outside handing the conglomeration over in triumph with the words, “Here eat this, it’ll make you feel better.. I promise..” Yep… less than ten minutes later…

Another night found us in the car as the statement, “Holy shit.. You are bleeding…“ was said out loud. Only god himself knows how that paper bag covered in blood wound up in the church parking lot… a mystery that will haunt me until my dying day…

The absolute highest moment of pride came the night it all ended though… I was surrounded by a group of Carrollton’s finest in a garage that I quickly noted was luckily without any camera coverage. They closed in around me in a tight circle as a short, red headed deputy stood on his tip toes, got in my face and said, “Well then do something about it boy…” That exchange was prompted by me saying, “Hey… don’t do that… it hurts..” immediately after they pulled me from the back of the squad car by my left elbow, while I was wearing handcuffs… those cars ain’t built for fat people…

Several months and a court appearance later, I had my life back. I decided then I would take a road less traveled, so I turned to the side and headed off into the woods. It only took the sound of a cell door being shut behind me one time to cure me of all that nonsense.

I have been brutally honest with my son about what could happen to him as he heads out on his solo adventures since garnering his license… I’ve talked to him for years about what is right and what the prices are for not toeing the line. I heard the comment the other day of, “I can’t wait to be that comfortable with it.” when I said that saying to my son, “Run to the store and get..” was one of the coolest things ever. I responded with, “I don’t think I will ever be comfortable with it, I just have to take a deep breath trust him.” Famous last words I know, but there comes a time when you have no choice, you just have to let it happen.

I think that I have instilled a fair amount of common sense into him, maybe its just paranoia.. But then that might be a good thing, fear keeps people in line.. doesn’t it?