Awhile back I spent some time to jot down an adventure I had when I was a teenager.
I have never been very proficient at English writing, but the purpose was simply to preserve the story so it would not be forgotten.
One time when I was 16 years old, my cousin and I went on our first long road trip by ourselves. Now that I look back on it, I was very lucky my parents trusted us as much as they did.
The plan was to spend 2 weeks cutting Eucalyptus trees for firewood on a relativeÛªs farm during Christmas break in Southern California. There was one small problem - I didnÛªt have a chainsaw or the money to buy one. I stopped by a small shop that my dad always took his saw to. My intention was to see how much money I would have to scrounge up to buy a saw. I looked all of the saws over and asked the owner which one he would recommend. He picked up a shiny red Shindaiwa with a 24Û bar and handed it to me to look at. My dad had always used Shindaiwa saws for cutting boundary lines and I knew they were dependable. I asked him how much the saw cost and he replied ÛÏdonÛªt worry about itÛ. I gave him a weird look and he said ÛÏtake the saw, make some money and pay me when you canÛ. We shook hands and I walked out the door with a brand new chainsaw.
For transportation, we took my 1976 Chevy 4x4 truck. It had a mildly modified 350 V8 with cherry bomb glass packed mufflers. They sounded pretty good to a couple teenagers that grew up watching Bo and Luke Duke sliding the General Lee around every corner. Gasoline was $1.99/gallon and times were good.
We drove south 10 hours into southern California to go on our wood cutting expedition. Once there, we spent long days working and many fun nights getting lost in the farmland, screwing around, enjoying our independence, making stories to tell. We came from a one stop light town so there was lots of fun to be had. We got lost every night for a week straight trying to get back to my relatives house. I think we stole a map out of every phone booth in that area in order to get home.
After cutting wood all day, we would usually get cleaned up and head into town to ÛÏpick up chicksÛ. Really all we did is hoot and whistle at gals driving by or standing around in a parking lot. There wasnÛªt any ÛÏpicking upÛ going on, but it was still more fun than hanging out with the aunt and uncle every night.
One night we decided to do some exploring to see where some of the dirt roads went. We peeled off on a subdivision road that was in the process of being constructed. All of the roads had been roughed in for miles. It was the perfect track for drifting around corners. Before we knew it, we made a wrong turn and found ourselves driving down the bottom of a dry irrigation canal. A jack rabbit darted out into the headlights as we were cruising down the bottom of the canal. My cousin yells ÛÏget himÛ, I floored the gas pedal and gave chase. That darn jack rabbit zig zagged down the bottom of the canal, evading all of my efforts to run him down. He finally slipped up the bank and ran off into the field. I let off the gas and stopped the truck so we could discuss the plan of attack. It was decided that we would put the truck in 4 wheel drive and follow the rabbit. Once we climbed out of the canal, up into the surrounding fields, we shined our spot light around, looking for our prey. We found him about 50 yards away resting by a tumble weed (thinking he was hidden). The chase was back on! We took off into the darkness driving wherever that poor rabbit ran. We bounced across the field, doing doughnuts, sliding around corners, and generally hauling a$$ for what seemed like an hour. We finally gave up the chase after feeling sorry for that poor critter. We figured he had earned his freedom. Who knew a jack rabbit could run that long?
The truck was running kind of hot, so we stopped to let it cool. We got out and looked around. In the moon light, we could see that we were in the middle of an oil field. Oil derricks were slowly pumping oil all around us. We both laughed, even though we had no idea where we were or how to get back. We decided to just follow a service road and see where it went. The service road connected to a main road, which led us to a phone booth, which of course enabled us to get back to the house.
The next night we found an old abandoned drive in theater. The large parking lot was flooded and looked like a lake. We slowly drove through it. It started out only a couple inches deep and by the time you got to the end, it was over 12Û deep. I turned the truck around and got a run at the water. We hit the water going about 30 MPH. Of course if 30 MPH was fun, 50 would be even better. The water hit the inner fenders so hard, I thought they might come flying off. After the second or third run at 50 MPH, the poor truck decided it had enough and wasnÛªt going any further. Being the mechanic that he was, my cousin suggested spraying WD-40 into the distributer cap. It was worth a try. Worked like a charmÛ?something to remember to keep behind the seat. We stopped at a phone booth to figured out where we were ÛÒ we had already torn out the map from that phone booth, so we knew we were not too far from home. Never even thought to stick a map into the glove box.
Another time, we had been cutting wood for about 8 hours and were pretty rummy by the end of the day. My cousin started saying that he was hearing voices in the plantation. I didnÛªt hear anything. He says to me ÛÏwatch thisÛ and started yelling into the grove ÛÏyou guys better get off this property or else!Û, ÛÏthis is private property!Û. He wasnÛªt really sure anybody was in there and I was pretty skeptical.
Well, we continue working, stacking firewood while quietly talking about how scared the people would have been if they WERE in there.
My cousin was known to get kind of crazy at times, which was usually an excuse for some fun. He tells me ÛÏletÛªs really scare themÛ. We start talking really loud about how tired we are of the trespassers and what we would do to them. We yell into the grove really loud that we are going to give them one more chance to leave or else. By this point in time I really didnÛªt think anybody was in the grove, but it was kind of fun. After we gave these imaginary people a chance to leave, I yelled ÛÏOK then you SOBÛªs, were going to get the shotguns and come in and get youÛ?Û We jumped into my truck and floored it. The 4 barrels opened up and the glass packs were raging. I threw the truck into a couple doughnuts and raced straight up the bank of an irrigation canal and landed in the bottom. We took off throwing a rooster tail of mud up the bottom of the canal giving it our best Dukes of Hazard ÛÏyee-haawÛ.
Well the true purpose of leaving was to get some food. After eating dinner, we came back to the grove of trees to resume cutting wood. We were driving slowly along the edge of the plantation, looking down each row of trees. My cousin yells out the window ÛÏyou better come out with your hands up..hee hee!Û
I stop the truck and suddenly hear branches rustling directly opposite my driverÛªs side door. We are both surprised. Out of the rustling branches came 13 of the baddest dudes I have ever seen. I quickly grabbed a large hunting knife that was sitting on the seat next to me. I slipped it under my thigh as they came walking out of the trees in single file, with their hands in the air! Every single one had tattoos around the neck and blue bandannas around their foreheads. The guy in the front appeared to be the leader. His arms were as big around as my thighs. Let me remind you, we were only skinny little 16 year old boys at the time. If this had been a TV episode, I would have been rolling on the ground laughing, but we were both in full out - brick making mode. We managed to keep our cool. The head guy puts his hands down and reaches into the cab of the truck to grab my shoulder firmly ÛÏhey man we donÛªt want any trouble from you guysÛ he says as he shakes my shoulder. ÛÏWe just got out of prison and donÛªt want to go backÛ. By this time the remaining dozen guys had lowered their arms and were standing around waiting to see what was going to happen. My cousin and I acted tough and BSÛªd our way out of the situation without ever blowing our cover about faking it. About a half dozen of the guys apologize to us and told us that they were having a party in the grove of trees and asked if we wanted to join them for some beers. ÛÏUh no thanks we have to get back to workÛ. They returned to the grove of trees to get drunk and we fired up the saws and kept cutting wood.
There is only a short window in your life, where you are old enough, yet young enough to make memories like these.
That was great. Too many really good stories never get told.
Two cousins of mine from "the valley" in So. Texas grew up on their daddy's cotton farm that backed up to the Rio Grande. Although they are really close in age to Holden and me; they had never seen the "bright lights of the big city" (literally) in 1964 when they came and stayed with us for a weekend. Holden and I took them to the drive-in movie, introduced them to city girls, the pin-ball machines at the bowling alley and showed them the fine art of "dragging Main" in a '51 Chevy.
Although it was a pretty unremarkable weekend for us, my cousins STILL tell stories about the time they had that weekend. It was something magical apparently. I wish (and I've told them several times) they would put it down on paper. The adventure was surely in their minds and hearts!
Oh, to be young again....
