...and one more for the road
I grew up at a time that drunk driving was encouraged (kidding, of course – sort of). By that, I mean, whenever we were pulled over, and the driver was obviously drinking (first clue: there were open beers in the car) the officer(s) would confiscate our remaining beers, and told us to go home.
One night, a day or so after New Years, we just left Pete’s (a bar where if you could see over the top of the bar, you could get served).
When we left the bar, some took their unfinished beers with them (still in their respective glasses) and headed to the next bar (‘The Bottle Stop’ in South Amboy).
Driving on route five-sixteen (ironically, right by the high school) the unwanted glow of police lights filled the car.
Immediately, I pulled over and as I searched for my documents, I noticed Billy in the back seat, full beer still in his hand.
“Billy,” I demand, “get rid of that beer!”
“OK,” he replied, then guzzled the remaining beer just as the officer walked past the back passenger window.
What should have followed was an array of tickets issued, car impounded, and loss of my license.
But, remember, this was the Renaissance of drunk driving.
I was told to drop everyone off, and go home. To tell you the truth, I don’t remember if that’s what I did but odds are, I didn’t.
Another time, my friend Chris and I headed down the shore, after the bars closed to just look at the ocean (we did that stuff back then). A straight run, route eighteen to thirty-four and straight into Asbury Park.
On route thirty-four, once again, from out the darkness, red-and-blue lights filled my car. I pulled over, looked for my documents, and waited. After the police officer reviewed my license, registration, and insurance he asked us to step out of the car.
As we stood on the shoulder he went through my car, back seat, front seat, and when he pulled several beer cans from under the passenger seat (some empty, some full) we thought that was it.
However, to our utter surprise, he just continued to search the car.
With great trepidation I asked the officer, “What are you looking for?”
Without hesitation he said, “Drugs,” and continued his search.
Chris and I, who knew full well there was nothing in the car, stepped back and smiled.
When no drugs were found, we found ourselves back on the road to Asbury Park.
(OK, this is the best part)
On our way back home, after we saw the ocean (again, for no reason except its what we did) we passed that same police car on the side of the road. In my rear view, I see he starts to pull out, to chase us, when, I assume, he recognized us from the previous stop. So, instead of following us, he flashed his brights as an acknowledgment, then rolled back into his spot to wait for the next ‘drug dealer’ to cross his path.
With the above said, don’t drink and drive. We may have gotten away with a lot when my friends and I were younger, but I also hit a telephone pole going forty-miles-an-hour. Was very lucky, as was the aforementioned friend, Chris (maybe Chris should have stopped driving with me) to walk away with just stitches and bruises.
We had fun, but remember, don’t drink and drive.
Oh, and, don’t do drugs.
Photo by NICK PURSER
