"Who gives a rat's ass!" I yelled, as we ran across the open ground. Clearly, we were spotted, but in our dark clothing and our evasive tatics of running through back yards and wooded lots we had little chance of being caught. With a curfew placed upon the town, we couldn't risk being picked up by the police and detained until our parents arrived.
Earlier in the evening I threw stones at my buddy's window in an attempt to lure him out. His father sat drinking a quart of beer at the kitchen table and rushed out to investigate. I lay close to the foundation with my face covered in my hands pressed against the ground. He stood inches from my head and scanned the back yard but soon returned to his quart of Narragansett.
My bud soon appeared stating that he was grounded but that his sister engaged his father in conversation allowing him to slip out.
We walked several streets over to once again borrow some bicycles left out at night. We peddled to all the hot spots of juvinile activity until the wee hours and would return them for another night.
Andy and Barney were out in full force tonight. Tensions were high as one of the force was killed a few nights earlier in their zeal to capture a potential hard cased juvy. As they shot at the car he was in, they misjudged the turn allowing the blinking yellow light to blink the officer's lights out forever. Tensions were high because there was a new kid in town that wore the flag sewed on the back of his jacket. Tensions were high as hair was long, skirts were short, and acid, pot and alcohol was in abundance.
We would walk the trestle high above the town and pee on cars that drove into town. No one dared chase us across the darkened span, adding to our glee. In time, many young drivers began to drive across, some daring to surf across standing on the hoods. We raided gardens taking lucious tomatos and cukes, throwing the excess into the neighbor's pool.
We would crouch like shrubs as the police slowed to scan the roadways and fields. On this evening, as tensions were high, surely equal to our high, several men were lying in wait. No one runs harder than a kid trying to escape swearing, cursing, threatening men. We have hid in trees. I strained my knee falling into a sunken grave. We hid in the dried up toilet hole of an old two seater outhouse.
"Who gives a rats ass!" Well, apparently the guys chasing us. The court and the judge, and my father who sat beside me as the judge went down a long line asking for our plea. Before I could reply, my father, sick of hearing each defendant state "not guilty" jumped to his feet and yelled, "What do you mean, not guilty! They're all guilty." He was cautioned to sit by the judge being reminded that all are innocent until proven guilty.
Dad was pissed..........


Rowan said…
So, is this a story? Or spoken true to life? Any case, bravo at your tale spinning abilities.
Tim said…
Ah yes, Rowan. This was my juvy years in the late 1960's America small town antics. Came to mind recently...
justrose said…
i ripped my shin open one time running from cops. i wasn't doing anything, but happened to be with the kids who were.

i was 12, but i still have the scar.