The Chase [1962] [For Cooky and Veronica] Before us the thick dark asphalt of the road filled our eyes: the street, our hot car headed down Rice Street, our hot 1955-Dodge went, and went fast; Bill said to me, in a murmur: "I think the car behind us is following us?" (I checked out the mirrors, and yup it was, it was following us all right, right behind us, like white on rice; Bill now checked out the rearview mirror, his face showed the same conclusion). "You better take a right at the next block, Weelock." He says, and I do. It's about 11:00 PM; I had just pilfered my last car, perhaps ten minutes ago, my 5th and last car (and you'll see why in a moment). Bill and I had taken, stolen: better put: stealing from cars: hubcaps, and batteries out of parked cars prior to this, put them in his small garage, and sold them here and there, now and then to get a case of beer (which we now had in the trunk of the car we had hotwired, and also stolen); we'd go up his alley, the one his parent's house was on: hide in a garage (anybodies garage), drink, and when, when we were noticed, and got kicked out, over the cemetery fence we went and drank the rest of it up, the rest of the beer and wine up, sitting on a grave stone: Me, Bill and Sunny, but tonight it was just Me and Bill, and there were a few more with us: at times, but for the most part, this was it for this fall evening, Just me and Bill, and a hot car and a case of beer in the trunk, and it was 1962. "Ha, DS," Bill says, "he's still following us, I think he spotted us, I mean, when I hotwired the car...(he was going to say he saw someone watching) do another turn, there"there"right there!..." "Where"where"!" "Right there... there...~!" Bill, he was jerking me with his elbow until I could hear what he was saying, I was so concentrating on the road... "DS," he says, "let me drive!" (he was 16 and I, 15, and he was a better driver than I). "Jump over me!" he did. (his legs lost contact with the floor: we were for a moment like snakes all mixed up between each other) I slowed down, as he fixed himself into my position, on Wanda Street, I must had turned, and didn't know I did. And as soon as Bill got his position, the car now on top of us, almost on top of us, the guy starts honking his horn, head out the window ("I'll kill you mother...f..ers" he yells))I can't blame him, if it's his car)) for us to stop, almost ended up and onto someone's lawn, and hit the curb a few times; Bill pressed the peddle to the metal, on the floor, to the lowest part of the floor, and I thought taking corners at 35 or 40 was dangerous, we now were hitting 50 +, and slamming on the breaks at sharper corners, I think we went over a few concrete steps, and lawns, and across this and that whatever it was: as if we were flying, and I'm falling all around like a loose bottle of beer: on Larpenteur and Jackson Streets, we were going 60-mph, and back on Rice Street just as fast. And the guy, this guy following us, relentlessly, was smoking his tires right behind us. "If he catches us, we'll have to kick his ass," Bill tells me. "Why not," I said, "unless he's a cop, and got a gun..." Bill looks at me and hits the gas again: that was food for thought, too much food, and too quick of a thought; then all of a sudden, just like that, I turn about to look for the guy, things changed: "...he's gone!" I said the antagonist was gone, just like that, and we slow down: if anything, it was kind of a game. We laughed, oh...oo how we laughed, and Bill milked it for what it is worth: "If it wasn't for me..." I interrupt, "Yaw, I know, you're a better driver than me"; and he was, he just wanted to hear it from me. "Come on DS, let's head on down to the Church Steps...show the guys the car..." (that is where the gang hung out ((the Cayuga Street Gang hung out, out on Jackson Street, on the Church steps at night: all 22-of us (or them and us) back in the 50s and 60s.)) "No, no, the car is too damn hot, and the police are looking for us... I, I...hell, let's just find a place to calm down and polish off that case of beer." And so we did just that: it was again, in his dark alley we went, which was about a half block away from the church steps, thus, there is where we pulled in, turned off the lights, went out and got a beer, sat back against the car and he hit me in the arm, "We did it..." and I responded, and hit him in the arm," Smart ass, I guess we did..." and we parked right in back of his parent's garage, finished that case of beer off, and hid the car around the block thereafter, and waited till morning to see if it was still there, and it was, and we left it alone, and I went to school, and Bill, well, he went home. And that was my 5th car, and my last stolen car. Now if this sounds bad, most of the guys in the neighborhood back then, had a string of keys that I could have used for a belt: and 600-cars was the minimum for most of the guys, I was an angel compared to them, and so was Bill. |
