I was watching a stupid movie this afternoon about a Tornado. It was so phony, I had to laugh through out it, but when the kid came up with this line that I used for my title, I pissed my pants. Hey Grandma!! Sorry you got knocked out by 4 barns, a herd of cows, and your house that all came a toppling down on you... and still you only had a small concussion and some red paint on your forehead. And then you talked about angels in the backseat of the Buick. Grandma.
I've done a lot of things in the back of Buick, but talking funny was never one of them. Well...not that I remember.
I was thinking about that today, after the movie. 40 light years ago, Gord and I were in the back of HIS Buick, parked in "lovers lane." Yes, folks that's what they called it back in the day. It was winter. The windows were all fogged up. (you know, because Gord is big on humidity)..anyway there was a lot of activity happening in the back seat of the Buick. Just an aside..if you can't "get a room"..the back seat of a 58 Buick is very comfortable. Trust me.
The car was running, it was warm, and the radio was playing soft love songs while we sipped a little pantie remover (lemon gin). Enough just to take away those teeny weenie inhibitions, that nag at your head.
..I was supposed to be home an hour ago
..We are underage and drinking, what if the cops stop us?
..Does he have a condom
..I hope I don't stink...stuff like that.
The gin worked. And we started in on our activities. When suddenly they was a knock on the window. We couldn't see who it was because the windows were all fogged up, but it was someone with a flashlight. Fuck, it was the cops! Holy shit, we were jumping around like fish out of a tank trying to assemble our selves so we could go to jail fully dressed. It was our town cop "Joe"...we only had one, so we all knew each other. Joe asked Gord to roll down the window. Gord yelled out.."just a minute" as he trying to put his pecker back in his pants....Then hastily, we both somersaulted back into the front seat of Buick, like nothing happened. Bibles in hand. Gord opened the drivers side window, and Joe asked him if we had any car problems, Gord said no, we were just sitting in the car and talking. Joe asked us if we had any liquor in the car. Gord said no, then he asked me, and I said..Oh no, I never drink, as I was trying to hook up my bra just in case we had to go to jail.
Joe told us to go home. And so we did, because we weren't in the mood for doing any more activities that evening. But a week later we found a new spot, and the activities continued.
Joe came back into our lives again about a year later. You see, we had not learned our lesson. Just because we found a new spot, didn't mean he couldn't find us. It was a small town with a lot of lonely roads around it, and he knew what was going on. Not with just us, but all the kids our age who were assholes.
We were "parked" again, but this time with his dad's new 1991 Buick. It was a compact. No more huge back seats. We had to scrunch up to do our activities. The windows once again were foggy, and when we heard the tapping on the windows, we knew it was Joe. But this time we had a six pack of beer in plain sight on the front seat. With 3 of them empty. We went through the same routine, and somersaulted back into the front seat, bibles in hand and opened the window, and asked Joe if there was a problem. Yes, he said, you have open liquor in your car. Okay the jig was up. But then Gord got a brain wave, he threw the 3 bottles of beer in the field. (he was a rebel) Joe didn't blink an eye. We got charged for open liquor in a vehicle. Now...how was I going to explain this to my parents?.... can you see me shitting my pants?????
We had to go to court. We both pleaded NOT GUILTY (because Gord told me to)...god I cannot believe I am telling you this. We won the case because Joe didn't go and pick up the beer bottles from the field so there was no evidence. But, I have always felt so guilty about what he and I did to Joe.
Needless to say, we didn't go around doing "activities" in vehicles after that. We moved to the city and did it when our roomies weren't around. But it wasn't the same. No steamy stuff. No cops, it just wasn't the same.
I can still smell the smell of the Buick, and the excitement of having a boyfriend, and the lust of it all. Every Christmas eve Gord and I used to exchange gifts in the Buick, along with his sister and her boyfriend (we double dated a lot)..and I can still smell the "Signature" Cologne we gave both our guys. It was a magical time and everything was possible. Gord's sister Tessa and I would plan the Christmas eve, and then guys would take us out for a burger and we head out to Neche ND, a small US town across the border, and buy a "mickey of Sloe Gin"...we were under age, but the bar owners never questioned Canadians. Once we got that, we smuggled it back across the Canadian border and went back to our secret country road and had our little Christmas party an opened our presents and listned to Christmas Carols on the radio and talked, until we had to go home.
I think that is why there is so much nostalgia about the cars of the 60's and 70's because we spent a major portion of our time in them doing what we had to. I surprised I am still alive, because this is just one tale, out of many.
I'll save them for another cold night. Hey Grandma!!