It was June, 1964.
WIFE... The Beatles, The Beach Boys, and The Four Seasons spoke to us in music and verse.
Ron had just gotten his new Pontiac Bonneville convertible.
He suggested a road trip.
Ron had done some growing up in Ft. Lauderdale...
how 'bout we take a trip down there and take a look at his old neighborhood? We could stay on the beach... swim during the day, sleep on a beach towel at night.
How neat is that?
I was between steady girlfriends, and was up for the adventure.
Ron had just started dating the girl he would marry.
I think he regretted suggesting the trip when I jumped on the idea so quickly... since he came up with the idea, how could he back out?
The round trip drive would take four days. Add to that whatever time we spent in Ft. Lauderdale, and it began to look like a week away from his gal.
He really didn't want to be away from her that long.
Top down weather. We started off early in the morning.
Remember this was 'way before the Interstate Highway system was finished... more of it was under construction than completed.
We drove non-stop, switching driving duties when we refueled.
In the wee hours of the morning I was doing my best to sleep in the back seat, top still down and kinda chilly, when I heard Ron say, "UH-OH!"
The tone was urgent.
"What?"
"A Florida State Trooper in the other lane is turning around to chase us."
"How fast ya goin?"
"120."
Well, it was adventure we wanted, right?
The Trooper was very nice... very professional.
Two out-of-state teenagers in a car with enough horsepower to provide power to a small Florida town, going twice the speed limit, and he didn't raise his voice.
Curfews matter. He asked for I.D. from both of us, then retreated to his cruiser.
He came back shaking his head... handed our driver's licenses back to both of us.
To me he said, "It's a good thing you weren't driving. At 17, I could take you to jail. Your buddy here is only 16, and to do that to him I would have to wake a juvenile officer and go through a lot of paperwork. I'm gonna give you a warning ticket... slow this damn thing down!"
And he let us go.
It took longer to get to Ft. Lauderdale than we imagined. We got there late in the day and drove around Ron's old neighborhood... checked out his old home... nice place, of course.
Exhausted, we parked at the beach, spread our towel, and went to sleep.
It seems there is always a breeze at the beach. At about 1 A.M.
I gave up trying to find a way to be warm and took refuge in the car. Ron followed shortly afterward.
The next day dawned clear and warm. We walked the beach for a little while, but there was a "Red Tide" coming in... the water was full of dead and dying fish and smelled terrible. By Noon it was 95 degrees, and in spite of the breeze the smell and the heat were unbearable.
Air Conditioning!
Where can we get into some air conditioning and maybe catch up on some lost sleep from the previous night?
The local theatre was showing "How The West Was Won" in air conditioned coolness.
"Two tickets, please". It's a long movie, but we sat through at least two showings, napping part-time. We filled our bellies with popcorn and Cokes.
We drove around the local cruise spots and got suspicious looks from the locals. No shower and little sleep for three+ days... we must have looked a sight!
That night we took stock.
Neither of us cared to even attempt to sleep on the stinky beach.
We were tired, bored, sweaty, and Ron was homesick for his new steady gal.
We decided to start home.
Just outside Birmingham, AL., me behind the wheel, too late I noticed that U.S. 31 took a 90 degree turn to the right. I forced the big Bonneville around the turn anyway, tires protesting loudly, and came face to face with "Officer Bubba" and his sidekick chatting outside their police car. Officer B stepped out into the highway and signaled he would like to chat.
Again, fate smiled on us. Too young... they didn't want to do the work it would take to punish us. "Get outta my jurisdiction!"
I don't remember much else about the trip home, except I was glad to get back into my own bed.
I think about that trip a lot.
I'm glad we did it... it's fun to tell the story.
But with a son of my own, I wonder... would I have allowed him to make the same trip at 16 or 17 years of age?
Would you?
4 comments:
For some strange reason I remember hearing about that trip. The summer I was 16 I went to Daytona and had a blast for two weeks. I went with the family, but never saw them, I met up with two sisters from Ga. and a lifeguard that skied behind our boat and we danced out at the Pier, this cool club for teens, that was out over the water. Back then you could have bonfires on the beach and us girls hooked up the guard and his friends and had a huge party. I still remember those wonderful memories like they happened yesterday. Back then you could still troll on the beach with your cars. For some reason the beaches look smaller nowadays.
Ron emailed and commented on my post:
"You left out the part of sleeping on the beach and the tide getting us wet and waking us, and the monkey I brought back. He bit me in the back seat, then escaped when we got home. A few weeks later there was a story in the Daily Journal about a monkey sighted in a tree in Greenwood.
That was quite an adventure, just one of many. Like the trip to Louisville just so we could piss in the Ohio river. John Teike and I took a trip to Michigan, fell asleep in the boat and got tangled in "seaweed", had an encounter with wolves in the late evening, and got attacked by giant mosquitoes.
The good ol' days!"
I had forgotten about the monkey....mean little sucker!
That is the funniest thing I have ever heard, A Monkey, what were you thinking? I had no idea that monkey spotted was yours.
You guys have got to treasure those moments, they are too funny to keep to yourself, More please.
From what I have been reading, I think we have enough ammo to fill a book.
Come on Ron, I know you have plenty stored up.
I was stationed at Tyndal AFB (Panama City) during Desert Storm. During Spring Break, that place was really nuts!
The kids took over the north part of the city and the geriatric set took the south (Mexico Beach is really pretty,,, sugar sand beaches, bluer than blue water)
I don't think I would let a kid go there without some heavy duty security. Those kids were NUTS! Not just beer and being silly. What do they call it? Risky behavior?? Yep, it was risky to the point of having a death wish!
But then Greybeard and Ron took their trip in a whole 'nuther world;1964 was a completely different set of circumstances.
Also, I’ve turned into an old fogy! ;)
Good thing I don't have kids, huh
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