Good Girls, Bad Girls, and Joyrides

A great blogger I follow, Swubird, posted The Getaway recently. I comment to him a lot about various similarities in my life to some of his posts. Today I am going to reveal a little about myself that is not widely known.

In my youth I was a "good girl" with bad tendencies. Secretly I always wanted to be a "bad girl". My badness was only revealed to my closest friends.

Once my three girl friends and I planned a weekend joyride during hush-hush sessions. Our boy friends would be camping that weekend. We talked and decided it would be great fun to surprise them at their campsite.

My best friend planned to stay the night. We decided we would hook up with our other friends and in the middle of the night we would go see the boys. It all sounded simple enough. However, the campsite was not within walking distance and not one of us had a car or a license to drive.

We schemed a plot to sneak out my sister's car, a Camaro. Brilliant!

The weekend arrived and my best friend came over. We went for a swim and discussed the exit route for our joyride. After dinner I stole a set of car keys from the bar where the extra keys were stored. We said our good nights and retreated to my room to execute the plan.

My friend and I would have made excellent burglars. We sat in my room and timed the air conditioner so we knew exactly how long it ran. (The noise from the AC would cover any noise we might make during our escape.) I informed her of the stair that squeaked if you stepped on the wrong side of it. We also decided it would be best if we crawled across the living room floor to exit out the patio door instead of the front door, which made a racket when you opened it.

Our escape went off with out a hitch. We made it out the back door and through the gate to the driveway where we found the Camaro was blocked by mom's car.

Feeling quite a bit of adrenalin we decided to take mom's car. I sneaked back into the house to retrieve the keys.

When I returned, I slipped into the driver's seat and turned the key to on. I moved the gearshift to neutral and we pushed the car out of the driveway and down the street a ways.

I looked toward the house and saw it was still quiet. I started the car and slowly drove down the street.

Once we got off my street, we turned up the radio and tuned it to our favorite station. Cruising through the city we did not see one other car. We went to pick up the other girls.

Down on Rosewood our two friends sat waiting for us on the curb. I turned off the headlights and inched the car up to them. I rolled down the window and whispered loudly, "you girls need a ride?" They laughed and jumped in the car.

I headed to Pat Booker toward FM 78. Once there we would be home free because 78 was rarely patrolled at the time. We were on our way.

I am a good driver. Technically, I've been driving since the ripe old age of 3. My dad would let me steer the car on family road trips. Also, I was preparing to get my hardship license the next year so I could drive my grand parents to doctor appointments. I had experience, but apparently not enough.

Our joyride took us down 78 to a few crossroads and eventually to FM 1103. I was not familiar with this road and followed the limits until one of my friends said, "this road is fun, go faster!" So, I did.

We cruised up and down hills. It was fun, almost like being on a roller coaster. We were laughing, singing with the radio, and talking about the guys. We were cruising about 70 mph when I hit some loose gravel.

The car fishtailed and the road turned into a sharp curve. I managed to slow it down but I couldn't get complete control of the car. The next thing I knew we were in a ditch. We were all okay.

The week before there had been a deluge of rain. The dirt banks by the ditch were mud. We assessed the situation and figured if I accelerated enough, and they pushed from behind, we could get the car out.

"STOOOPP!" The girls screamed. I stopped and got out of the car. My friends were mud from head to toe. The rear tires were dug into this mud, which was more like quicksand at this point.

My mud-soaked friends and I decided to walk back to the main road where we hoped we'd find some help. After walking about a mile we saw a truck coming. We began flailing our arms and signaling for them to stop. Of course they went on. Who picks up strangers in the middle of the night?

We kept walking. A few minutes later the truck we tried to call down returned. They saw the car and figured it was ours.

There were three good 'ol country boys in the truck. Fate would have it they had a winch on the grill. They pulled the car out.

Beaten, we headed back home. Our joyride lost it's appeal and dawn was on the horizon. Once I was back on the main road, we hit the car wash to see if the car had been damaged and to spray off my mud-soaked buddies.

The car was physically okay but caked with mud. I sprayed down my friends and we began cleaning the car. I thought we did a pretty good job.

There was a knock on my door. Sleepy eyed I opened it to find my dad glaring at me. "Do you know what happened?"

"What happened to what?" (It's always good to answer a question with a question.)

"Come with me." I turned to my friend and said I'd be back. I followed my dad downstairs and out the front door. My mom's car sat in it's spot glistening in the morning sun. I thought WOW, we really cleaned that baby up good! Then I saw a clump of grass and mud plop down on the drive way. The entire under carriage was caked with it.

Dad asked me to explain the grass and mud to him. I looked him in the eye and denied knowing anything about it. He believed me.

You see, I was daddy's little girl. I was also a good girl.