What We Did For Fun

Taking a short break so I can post something. Not that what I'm posting is all that important, but it's nice to keep up.

Got to thinking about a couple of things today while on the way home from grocery shopping. Not keen on grocery shopping anymore. The foods I want to buy and eat I pretty much shouldn't, and so I'm not. The foods I can/should buy are about as appealing to me as chewing on old leather. Actually, I'm more inclined to chew on old leather. So once again Spouse and I walked through the entire store and I didn't choose a single thing for me to eat - except some chicken, honey mustard and hot sauce.

But on the way home I was remembering some of Stephen's and my antics, back in the day. At times our humor was kind of wicked. Even mean. One thing had to do with driving cars. Stephen was better at this than me. The only time I was able to pull it off was when I owned a little Opel GT.

Now the Opel GT was a tiny car. It only seated two people, although I was able to fit four inside. My car was an automatic, so it had no acceleration and now power. As Mother used to enjoy saying about it, "That car couldn't pull the hat off someone's head."

But it looked fast. And that was key.

I remember coming to a traffic light in Anoka. I was in the left lane. A big Dodge Charger stopped to my right. He gunned his engine. I gunned mine. Stephen looked at me and started to laugh.

You don't honestly think you can beat that car, do you?

Watch and see.

We continued to rev our engines and watch the light. Then, as the light turned green, he tore out with the smell of burning rubber. I, on the other hand, made my left turn. Drove around the block to confirm my suspicion and laughed. Sure enough, the cop who liked to hide near the park had nabbed the Charger. I got out of there in a hurry.

Stephen did that all the time. When he drove parts truck for Art Goebel Ford he would speed down East River Road - until he reached a certain curve. Stephen knew that a policeman was waiting just beyond the curve to catch speeders. What Stephen liked to do was to get into a race with some idiot. Then, as they neared the curve, he would hit his brakes and slow down. By the time he made the curve the other racer would be pulled over, pointing frantically at Stephen, who was cruising by at a mile or two below the speed limit.

Kind of mean, weren't we?