December 23, 2004
Fun of a Saturday Night
When I was sixteen I developed a night sport I dubbed "Follow That Rat". It consisted of me and a buddy getting smoked up, drinking Miller ponies, and selecting a random victim in traffic. The idea was to get behind them, flash the high beams once or twice to signal our presence, then follow them wherever they went. If they didn't seem sufficiently concerned another high beam shot, with fishtailing, was deemed necessary. They ususally got the hint about then.
The beauty of this game was the extraordinary lengths people would go to to shake you. There were the two girls, for instance, who meandered through Windsor Forest for forty-five minutes of cutbacks and U-turns in an effort to shake us. The poor driver finally leaned out of her car and sobbed for us to leave her alone. Okay. I felt a little bad about that one.
There was also the elderly couple who finally resorted to shooting an intersection at a red light to escape us, causing two cars to lock down, but no impacts. I saluted that old hoss with a fresh pony, I tell you. That took guts.
Did I mention we wore sunglasses and black hats? This was pre-Blues Brothers, so it was a fashion statement of sorts, but more conceived to hide our identities.
After maybe thirty of these excursions, and a few tense getaways when the prey found a cop, we tired of the game, and went back to the quest for quim.
Now I know you're thinking Hell, Velocifucker, that's just plain old stalking. I beg to differ. Stalking is a solo, furtive act rooted in incomprehensible obsession. It is a sad preoccupation that often ends in frightening violence. This was more recreational terrorism, random and easily as dangerous for the hunter as the hunted. Of course, quarry selection was important to cull the probable packers from the indefensible. Other than that I thought it was a fair match.
You sick fuck. Don't make me tell the one about Mailbox Bingo...
See what you made me do? Now I'm quoting Acidman!
Posted by: Queenie at December 23, 2004 6:40 PMWhen can we expect to read about you and your buddies having a bit of Saturday night fun setting fire to bums?
Posted by: Jim - PRS at December 23, 2004 6:43 PMThat was YOU? Damn, you must have gotten around. I've had young yay-hoo's do that to me before, so I give them the ride of their lives. I am one of those crazy who drives to be driving, so I tend to intimately know all the little switchbacks and moguls and bottomless pits in the area.
I bait the hook by letting them chase me close then popping the brake just hard enough to dip the down the front of the car, then taking off like a woman on a mission.
Man, I lead them on a chase worthy of the Duke brothers. Busted up more than a few suspensions doing it too, and none of them were mine...teeheehee.
Posted by: Mamamontezz at December 23, 2004 6:54 PMThat's hilarious! When we were young bucks, we would get really drunk (of course) and then go ride to oil wells. Now, if you haven't done this, you haven't lived. The ones I'm talking about are the ones that have the huge hammer looking thing on the end. On the end of that hammer is a thick cable that goes into the ground with a ball attached at some point in the cable. You would wait for the ball to come down, grab hold of the ball, then hold on for dear life. You would go screaming up into the air then back down again. Once you got the hang of it you could gracefully let go and be on the ground. The novice oil well rider would usually freak out and not let go until the ball was going back up, which of course would send them crashing to the ground. Once the person came to their senses they were usually met with laughter and beer being poured on them. If we were feeling especially brave, we would climb to the top of the well and attempt to walk across the top of the hammer. As you would guess, the movement becomes greater as you reach the end. The winner was the one who could stand up and walk across the hammer the farthest. I'll guarantee you there were a lot of close calls. Ah, to be young again.
Posted by: Jaundiced Jaw at December 23, 2004 8:18 PM