| General Non-Fiction posted April 30, 2023 |
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My Almost Arrested Story
1969 Green Road Runner
by Debi Pick Marquette
Almost Arrested Contest Winner
It was supposed to be just us five girls, best friends ever. We had a big tent, a food cooler, a case of beer, and a bonfire. What more could we ask for on our camping weekend?
I should have known that Paula would tell Wayne (her Maple Lake boyfriend) that we would be there. And of course, to make matters worse, he would bring his best friend, Glen (the guy with supposedly the coolest and fastest car around). It was a shiny deep green Road Runner.
From what I understood, he changed the engine in that baby, like some guys change their underwear. And as much as I loved cars and was saving for a nicer one for myself, I wasn't in the mood to meet another guy, since it hadn't been that long since going through a rough break up. Yet I knew then that is what my friends had in mind.
Wayne's 1970 Barracuda was the color of the ocean in the early morning sunshine, was a contender to most, but he couldn't beat his best friend's car. I had heard this Roadrunner was as grand to look at as it was fast.
I laughed at the thought of the cartoon. If Wile E, the Coyote, couldn't catch the Roadrunner, how would anyone catch this Speedy green bird? It was known to leave everyone and everything in its dust. I was so intrigued.
I grew up with three brothers, so I knew a few things about guy stuff: how to play football, catch snakes and frogs, and a little bit about cars. Driving with bald tires gave me lots of practice learning to change tires.
I did get to know Glen that night. He was different from most guys. He was twenty years old, more than three years older than me, and more gentle and mature than the others I had dated. I found it easy to put my trust in him.
Not only did I sit behind that wheel that night, but for many nights after. That car would be my wedding present when we were married, about a year and a half later.
However, one condition came with that gift: I was never to get behind the wheel and race it myself.
We lived almost eight miles from the nearest town, and as much as street racing was illegal, cops didn't patrol in our area too often.
But closer to town or in town was a different story altogether.
If anyone was caught racing there, it was treated much like a DWI and was an immediate jail sentence. It was a very strict city ordinance.
There was about a mile stretch of the highway near our place where you could see if anyone was coming. Guys often would come to our home to ask if he would race, and if Glen wasn't busy or if in the mood, he would indulge them. Also, if we were on our way to a particular destination, and there wasn't an urgency to get there, we would end up racing. Cars would come from behind, roar their engine (the universal language) for, "Meet me at the mile stretch!" It seemed like everyone had a muscle car back then and wanted a piece of the action, a chance to win the title of "Fastest car in the County." And I never got sick of being a part of it.
He always made me get out of the car and I waited for him on the side of the road. He said it was too dangerous and would never let me share in that part. But I figured I got the next best thing, as I did get to wave the scarf that I kept in the backseat just in case.
And yet, I knew that Glen preferred to race at Minnesota Dragways, where we used to go every Sunday morning, when we first started dating.
I used the car to go to work, get groceries, doctor appointments, etc.... But my thrill was always in the time I spent between the destinations. It wasn't unusual for someone to come up behind me and roar their engine, but I always respected my husband's wishes. I never let these guys harass me into a race.
This particular day though, this guy in a beautiful black and white Nova met me on my way to town. I noticed he turned his car around and followed me all the way. He roared many times, even pretending he would pass me, but he always slowed down and went behind me again. It didn't matter to him that Glen wasn't driving the car as long as he could claim that he beat Marquette's Green Road Runner. If they could get me to race, they knew they only had to face the fastest car, not the skilled and fastest driver. I concluded that they preferred to catch me on the road.
I was going to a very special doctor's appointment; to see if I was carrying our first child. So I was already excited and feeling giddy. My hormones were indeed ready for the biggest thrill of my lifetime, but I was only prepared for the baby news, nothing else.
I knew the town wouldn't be busy, so I scheduled my appointment for that time. I didn't care for fighting crowds anywhere, whether on roads, clinics, or grocery stores. When I pulled up to the stop lights, he found his chance to move in and torment me. It was a four-lane, with a cement-structured medium in the middle. And I knew these guys' minds, maybe even better than they did, since most seemed to think with carburetors and engines for brains.
We could see that the lights were about to change, and now my engine was roaring as loudly as his. My mean green machine was making more noise than I had ever heard myself roar it before. The lights turned green, and he screeched through the intersection, like a bat out of hell, just as I shifted down and sat there for a minute........... I remember thinking about how tempting it was and not knowing until that split second what I was going to do. That was such a rush for me, but it didn't compare to the thrill of waving to Mr. Nova while driving by just as they were putting him into the backseat of the sheriff's car.
That was the last of our wild and fun racing era. Our first child, Michelle, was born six months later, so my common sense husband decided it was time for us to own more of a family car. I cried when we sold it to my little brother, who smashed it up within six months of owning it. I wasn't sure I'd ever forgive either guy for that.
Glen never did get beat, and I never did race. But what a thrill it was to come so close that day to almost getting arrested.
It was supposed to be just us five girls, best friends ever. We had a big tent, a food cooler, a case of beer, and a bonfire. What more could we ask for on our camping weekend?
I should have known that Paula would tell Wayne (her Maple Lake boyfriend) that we would be there. And of course, to make matters worse, he would bring his best friend, Glen (the guy with supposedly the coolest and fastest car around). It was a shiny deep green Road Runner.
From what I understood, he changed the engine in that baby, like some guys change their underwear. And as much as I loved cars and was saving for a nicer one for myself, I wasn't in the mood to meet another guy, since it hadn't been that long since going through a rough break up. Yet I knew then that is what my friends had in mind.
Wayne's 1970 Barracuda was the color of the ocean in the early morning sunshine, was a contender to most, but he couldn't beat his best friend's car. I had heard this Roadrunner was as grand to look at as it was fast.
I laughed at the thought of the cartoon. If Wile E, the Coyote, couldn't catch the Roadrunner, how would anyone catch this Speedy green bird? It was known to leave everyone and everything in its dust. I was so intrigued.
I grew up with three brothers, so I knew a few things about guy stuff: how to play football, catch snakes and frogs, and a little bit about cars. Driving with bald tires gave me lots of practice learning to change tires.
I did get to know Glen that night. He was different from most guys. He was twenty years old, more than three years older than me, and more gentle and mature than the others I had dated. I found it easy to put my trust in him.
Not only did I sit behind that wheel that night, but for many nights after. That car would be my wedding present when we were married, about a year and a half later.
However, one condition came with that gift: I was never to get behind the wheel and race it myself.
We lived almost eight miles from the nearest town, and as much as street racing was illegal, cops didn't patrol in our area too often.
But closer to town or in town was a different story altogether.
If anyone was caught racing there, it was treated much like a DWI and was an immediate jail sentence. It was a very strict city ordinance.
There was about a mile stretch of the highway near our place where you could see if anyone was coming. Guys often would come to our home to ask if he would race, and if Glen wasn't busy or if in the mood, he would indulge them. Also, if we were on our way to a particular destination, and there wasn't an urgency to get there, we would end up racing. Cars would come from behind, roar their engine (the universal language) for, "Meet me at the mile stretch!" It seemed like everyone had a muscle car back then and wanted a piece of the action, a chance to win the title of "Fastest car in the County." And I never got sick of being a part of it.
He always made me get out of the car and I waited for him on the side of the road. He said it was too dangerous and would never let me share in that part. But I figured I got the next best thing, as I did get to wave the scarf that I kept in the backseat just in case.
And yet, I knew that Glen preferred to race at Minnesota Dragways, where we used to go every Sunday morning, when we first started dating.
I used the car to go to work, get groceries, doctor appointments, etc.... But my thrill was always in the time I spent between the destinations. It wasn't unusual for someone to come up behind me and roar their engine, but I always respected my husband's wishes. I never let these guys harass me into a race.
This particular day though, this guy in a beautiful black and white Nova met me on my way to town. I noticed he turned his car around and followed me all the way. He roared many times, even pretending he would pass me, but he always slowed down and went behind me again. It didn't matter to him that Glen wasn't driving the car as long as he could claim that he beat Marquette's Green Road Runner. If they could get me to race, they knew they only had to face the fastest car, not the skilled and fastest driver. I concluded that they preferred to catch me on the road.
I was going to a very special doctor's appointment; to see if I was carrying our first child. So I was already excited and feeling giddy. My hormones were indeed ready for the biggest thrill of my lifetime, but I was only prepared for the baby news, nothing else.
I knew the town wouldn't be busy, so I scheduled my appointment for that time. I didn't care for fighting crowds anywhere, whether on roads, clinics, or grocery stores. When I pulled up to the stop lights, he found his chance to move in and torment me. It was a four-lane, with a cement-structured medium in the middle. And I knew these guys' minds, maybe even better than they did, since most seemed to think with carburetors and engines for brains.
We could see that the lights were about to change, and now my engine was roaring as loudly as his. My mean green machine was making more noise than I had ever heard myself roar it before. The lights turned green, and he screeched through the intersection, like a bat out of hell, just as I shifted down and sat there for a minute........... I remember thinking about how tempting it was and not knowing until that split second what I was going to do. That was such a rush for me, but it didn't compare to the thrill of waving to Mr. Nova while driving by just as they were putting him into the backseat of the sheriff's car.
That was the last of our wild and fun racing era. Our first child, Michelle, was born six months later, so my common sense husband decided it was time for us to own more of a family car. I cried when we sold it to my little brother, who smashed it up within six months of owning it. I wasn't sure I'd ever forgive either guy for that.
Glen never did get beat, and I never did race. But what a thrill it was to come so close that day to almost getting arrested.
Almost Arrested Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
|
Yes, this was part of my story when I was young. So thankful that we got that out of our system before anyone was hurt or killed.
And yes, Thelma, I really was a bit of a Louise back then. LOL... : )
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. And yes, Thelma, I really was a bit of a Louise back then. LOL... : )
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