We were 17. We had a 20 acre farm all to ourselves. We were in the middle of nowhere. Miles from civilization, seconds from the ocean, and a 1982 Buick with its trunk loaded full with enough alcohol to sustain a ragtag group of teenagers for the next seven days. Oh…we also had groceries…but they didn’t get put away until day two.
Now when I drive through, on those rare , free afternoons when road trips to the middle of no where are permitted, I have to shake my head in wonder. How does a group of six heavy drinking, pot smoking, metal heads convince wise and knowing parents to let them escape for a week with no supervision, an unlicensed car and more booze than you can shake a stick at?
You give it a name, you draft a contract, and you sell the idea. Even then my mouth could sell ice to an Eskimo.
The memories that remain are all good…if somewhat hazy. Apparently the tiny little community still tells the tale of the biker gang that invaded for a week back in the early 90’s…but that somehow has escaped my memory…oh crap! They’re talking about us!
It was awesome. And those hazy memories will provide the fodder for more than one tall tale.
It’s Free Write Friday at Magic In The Back Yard and Kellie Elmore is prompting some fantastic memories! Join us!