When I was in high school, a senior, I discovered I wasn't in enough trouble. And truthfully, even in hindsight, I must consider myself lame. No drinking or smoking for me. Drugs were never entertained. At most, I'd cut classes for lunch breaks a couple times but all we were doing was trying to score some Krispy Kreme donuts. Or is it doughnuts?
When this epiphany fell from the Heavens and landed in my brain, it created with it a willingness to go with my first wacky impulse and to provoke the same from my chums.
One night, I told Pops I was going to the movies with Rodball and DJ. That was our intention but Rod's grandma demanded more of his time than we'd originally assumed, so the time for seeing movies was over. Being in a town where pinching a loaf can make or break someone's night, you mustn't waste an opportunity to have fun.
So when it just so happened that the three of us all had firecrackers and bottle rockets in our possession, we knew what must be done.
Under the cover of night, we loaded our wares into Rod's old ass Jeep Cherokee and trained our sights on North Macon, home to the wealthier than us. After a brief stop at Kroger where we purchased small bags of flour and left crushed stink bombs at the entrance, we found ourselves riding down the paths of affluent subdivisions lighting up bottle rockets and shooting them at houses too big for any purpose other being a hotel or hospital.
I rode shotgun, DJ fed me the ammo and Rod navigated the mean streets. Believe it or not, this got old so we manuevered out and headed for trouble wherever else it could be found.
Stopped at a 4-way for an unusually long time, I asked Rod, "Yo, what's the deal? Why we just sittin' here?!" Typical of his wisdom, my friend the driver just shhsh'd me and pointed in the rear view where a little Honda could be seen in approach. Then Rod looked at me and said, "M-80?" I could only reply with a smirk and echo, "M-80."
DJ furnished the goods and I lit the fuse in pace with the decreasing speed of our new foe. Like some perfectly executed plan, I dropped the M-80 exactly where the Honda would pull up over it and as we passed through the intersection, we all watched in glee as a small flash jumped from beneath the car and a loud pop shot through the Southern winter air.
No perfect plan. The Honda's blinker had been set to signal a left turn but it went away and the car followed us straight through the 4-way. We were in hot pursuit.
Through hills and valleys. Over the river and through the woods. Down the by-ways and highways. And our hearts raced faster than the Jeep could because that Honda could not be shaken.
At a crossroads where a stop sign would only slow us down should we adhere to its demands, danger grew expotentially as the Honda swurved out around us, dropped the hand brake and slid to block off our exit. Like a madman, Rod paid him no mind. Stealth technology has nothing on what that man did that night. Somehow we crossed a very busy road (where later that year a classmate of ours would die) and did so by going off road to avoid the Honda. The owner of said car, by the way, was out of it pointing a handgun at us.
You'd think that those three elements would have just been overload -- all coming together like that -- but no, we still found the composure to scream and yell like tiny children.
The crying died down long enough for us to notice that there was no car... and then, headlights. And Honda. And more chasing.
Shit.
Conceding defeat, Rod advised us that he'd be pulling over at the nearest brightly lit public area he could find. He suggested we be apologetic and sincere. We agreed. It was nice having a "brains" for the operation.
Soon we were at a busy gas station. We were a little scared. It didn't help when DJ said, "It'd be funny if its a cop." It wouldn't be funny at all. Matter of fact, it wasn't funny when the guy stepped out wearing a sweater with a badge pinned on his chest.
Off-duty, as it were. Lucky us.
He called "back up" and when they arrived, an inventory of the Jeep was taken. In the back, we'd tried concealing the fireworks with our jackets. They were removed one by one to reveal a huge mound of minor explosives and our jaws dropped. None of us expected to see so many... it was pretty because we're boys who like things that blow up... but it was frightening because it looked like we were out to do some serious damage -- thank god it was well before 9/11 and Columbine.
They also mocked us for having little bags of flour because we claimed we were going to cook something later.
Then they found the BB gun, which no one remembered putting in the Jeep. The off-duty cop who'd tracked us informed us coldly that had he seen that, he would have fired on us.
Already quaking in our Doc Martins, it did not get better when Off Duty said he was going to call our folks in thirty minutes -- enough time, he decided for us to tell them ourselves. Sadistic fuck.
When I arrived at my dad's house, I stopped first in the bathroom to prepare for a tongue lashing. I opened the door and my father who was sitting still in his chair watching TV asked, "How was the movie?"
Maybe it was that he didn't bother looking at me or perhaps it was the violence in his voice, but somehow I knew he already knew.
Needless to say, I'd found plenty of trouble for the time being.
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